Foreign Defenses
by BeckySharp
Summary: It's her first week teaching at Hogwarts, and she's already Petrified students, nearly murdered Trelawney and has trashed the Great Hall
1. Default Chapter

Foreign Defenses 

All characters are the property of JK Rowling, except for Viviane Chance, who is my own creation.  This story starts about one-third of the way through _Prisoner of Azkaban._

_Bad idea.  Very bad idea.  Worst idea you've ever had.  A roomful of children and I haven't a thing to say to them.  Bloody hell._

Viviane Chance tried to slow down, but the witch who had a firm grasp on her arm kept hurrying her down the corridor at a relentless pace.  The faces of the carved beasts on pillars and the inhabitants of the portraits flashing past appeared smugly amused at her predicament, so Viviane bared her teeth at them.  "Manners!" snapped a farthingale-clad woman, shaking a finger at the new Professor.

Minerva McGonagall turned to her, not breaking stride.  "I'm sorry to drag you straight off the train and into the classroom, but-"****

"Oh, I know I'm late.  It was unavoidable, however, and…" Viviane's voice trailed off as they stopped before a heavy oaken door and she got a good look at her companion.  The impeccably dressed and groomed Professor made her uncomfortably aware that her hair was coming down from its loose bun and her black robes were streaked with dust and covered in wrinkles.  There was a large rip in her skirt where she'd caught it on the door of the carriage.

"This is it?  They're, er, in there?" Viviane whispered.  Professor McGonagall merely lifted an eyebrow.  "So," said Viviane in a firmer voice.  "This should be interesting."

"For the students as well," Professor McGonagall replied.  "None of us have much experience with magical skills used outside of Great Britain."  She smiled rather grimly.  "Good luck."

_I don't even get an introduction? Viviane thought in a** panic as she watched Professor McGonagall stride off down the corridor.  She reached for the iron latch on the door, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.  **__No more stalling.  You got yourself into this.****_

She wrenched the door open and walked in, chin high, looking down her nose at the students as she took her place behind the desk.  

"Er, hello," she greeted them.  "My name is Viviane – I mean Professor Chance, and I'm here to teach you some unusual – for you - aspects of Defense – both against the Dark Arts, and more general threats," she continued, in a more confident voice.  "Now, let me find out who you are."

As she read the class list, a corner of her mouth lifting over a few familiar names, she scanned the faces of the students, who looked either apprehensive or bored.  Viviane puzzled over the lack of excitement that she remembered a new teacher usually generated.  _Has Albus neglected to mention a high staff turnover rate?_

She glanced back up at the students, hoping she didn't look as confused as she felt.  _You're here to teach.  So teach!  Viviane told herself, and walked swiftly from behind the desk.  _It would be easier if I knew how_.  "Stand up," she commanded, and the students stumbled to their feet, startled by her sharp tone.****_

"Balance on one foot."  She watched with amusement and crossed arms as about half the class toppled over, and a few of those still standing made desperate faces as they swung their arms wildly and hopped in place, trying to stay upright.****

Viviane sighed.  "How on earth do you expect to defend yourself when you can't even maintain a decent sense of balance?  Everybody get up and try again."

Amid murmurs and surreptitious glares, the students did, and the results did not improve.  Viviane tapped her wand on her desk meditatively, causing purple sparks to drop from the end.  "All right, I see the first half of class will consist of getting the lot of you into shape."  She noticed one tall, red-haired boy was still standing negligently on one foot.

Viviane looked him over with a flick of her eyelashes.  _Tall, skinny, rather unfortunate shade of hair.  __Ron Weasley, she recalled.  "You, at least, have decent balance.  Older siblings at home?"_

The boy grinned at her.  "Too many."

"You look like you've had plenty of opportunities to use basic Defense skills."  She clapped her hands to gather attention and taught the class a few simple exercises to help their balance.  "Make sure you practice these well before next class – I'll be timing you!" she said.

A girl in the front row, with bushy hair and alert eyes, waved her hand.  "Professor?  Since this class was added mid-year, we don't know which textbook you'll be using."

Viviane was brought up short by the request.  "Textbook?  Oh, er, I – I don't think we'll need one."

She turned away from the girl, who whispered, "Why do all of our Defense Professors insist on teaching without books?   Perhaps that's why-"****

"Lockhart assigned plenty of books, but then again you liked-"** the Weasley kid whispered back.**

"I did _not-" hissed __Granger, Viviane thought, glancing at the class list. _

Resisting the temptation to eavesdrop on the rest of that conversation, Viviane again rapped for attention.

"What I'm going to teach you isn't written down.  You will learn through practice, and through controlling and directing the powers you were born with.  It is a different way of thinking and using magic, from a different culture, but you will learn it.  I suspect that it will come in useful."  Viviane, for the first time, looked Potter straight in the eye and found him to be looking fearlessly back at her.  Granger, obviously aghast, glanced at Potter but Weasley whispered "Excellent!  I like this kind of culture!"****

Viviane stood still and summoned the Shield.  "Someone throw a curse at me."  The class sat quietly, looking scared.  "Come, now.  I know you aren't supposed to know any, but surely most of you have picked up one or two.  You, Finnigan.  You look like you must know some basic curses.  Just use a mild one."  The boy took out his wand and tentatively summoned a Jelly-Legs Jinx.  It was absorbed by the Shield, and the class gasped, impressed.  Several students tried their best to get through, but finally Viviane had them desist and she let down the Shield.  With a sigh, Viviane noticed that Hermione Granger had her hand up again.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" Viviane asked.

"Professor, you didn't use a wand!" the girl said in a shocked voice.

No, I didn't," Viviane said, her voice clipped.  "You don't need one to raise the Shield, although you might want to use yours in the beginning as a something to focus on while you're trying to gather up enough energy.  Any other questions?"  

A student who, until now, had been cowering in his seat, raised his hand. 

"Yes, let's see, what is your name again?"  

"N-Neville Longbottom, Professor.  Um, Professor Chance, how powerful is the Shield?"  

"It will repel most low to mid-level curses, but can only slow down the worst of them, say, the Avada Kedavra curse.  In which case, it won't save your life, but it may give you time to throw the spell back at your attacker."  She had already turned her back on him when she heard him speak up again.

"Um, Professor, um…" stammered Neville.  

Viviane turned back around with a look that made the boy sink further into his chair.  "Yes, go ahead.  What is it?"  

"But - but the Avada Kedavra curse isn't allowed," he whispered.  

Derisive laughter erupted from the back of the room.  Viviane caught the eye of a boy in the back row.  _He's the Malfoy, Viviane noted, taking in his sharp chin and narrow gray eyes.  __Charming.  His face was twisted in a sneer. _

 "What a dumb question.  The answer is obvious; of course you use it.  You're dead anyway so you may as well kill your attacker."

Viviane walked through the class to the side of his desk, and stared down at him.  "Do you find the answer so obvious?  I think Longbottom has brought up a point that is integral to this class, and one which all of you must consider deeply and at length."  The boy looked away, and Viviane walked back to the front of the room, and turned, looking intently at each student as she spoke.  "Just how far are all of you prepared to go in defense of … Hogwarts?  Your own life?  The life of someone you love?  Or for revenge?  You need not make these decisions now, but you must think about the consequences of the powers you are learning to use, and the limits, if any, to which you will confine them."  The class was so quiet that they could hear the murmur of the class next door. 

"Pair up," she ordered, and the students once again scrambled to their feet.  "I'm going to show you how to raise the Shield.  You may use your wands at first, but if you like, you can try to concentrate the power on your own.  Once you know the spell, you will take turns trying to raise and maintain the Shield while your partner throws curses at you."

She settled herself into the teacher's chair and watched, laughing, as students began to stagger about on jelly legs, itch uncontrollably and erupt in boils.   Getting tired of the spectacle, she picked up the book she'd been reading on the train and lost herself in the description of the epic 1486 battle waged over the northern trade routes, between the wizard chieftains Cuthbert and Gregoire.****

BANG!

Viviane shot up out of her chair, accompanied by a cacophony of shrieks and yells as a pile of entangled students fell over in a heap, the victims of several crossed curses gone wrong.  Viviane ran over to try and sort out the students amidst accusations and a few thrown punches, but the hysterics of two girls nearby drowned out any rational attempt at explanation.

Looking up with a snarl of exasperation, she pointed her wand at them.  "_Petrificus totalis," she snapped, and didn't bother to watch them fall to the floor before returning to the mess in front of her.  "All right, who's got boils, and who is itching?" Viviane asked.  "Itchers, in the corner, over there.  Somebody work on reversing their curses.  Boils, remain here, since you seem to be welded together."****_

In the middle of the uproar a knock, at first unheard, got louder and then a tall form stalked into the room. "What is going on here? Who's in charge? Where is the professor?" ** As his eyes slid from the pile of students still on the floor to the petrified forms of Lavendar Brown and Pansy Parkinson, his expression changing from disgust to incredulity.**

Viviane stood up, surreptitiously wiping her hands on her robe, then extending one to him.

"Viviane Chance. I've just arrived to teach some extra Defense Against the Dark Arts classes."

Snape ignored Viviane's hand and glared at her. "Do you teach according to the laws of chaos? Here at Hogwarts, we teach. We don't romp."

Viviane studied the intruder and gave an involuntary shiver. _A cold man, she thought. "I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are." she said. "Where I come from, we don't barge into classrooms."_

"I am Professor Severus Snape." The man bit off his words angrily. "I teach Potions. Quietly."****

Viviane blinked at him, mouth open. _Severus Snape! She'd heard of him as the most talented Potions master in generations but never imagined him as this ascetic with attitude._

The retort that rose to her lips died there; the sense of being in strange territory made her hesitate. She straightened up, concentrated her gaze on his nose and said, "I apologize if we were too noisy. It won't happen again." The Potions master made a noise between a huff and a snort, and abruptly left. 

~*~*~

"What was Dumbledore thinking," exclaimed Hermione, trying to resist scratching at her still-itchy arm, as soon as they were out of earshot.  "Honestly, she has no idea how to teach.  Did you see her reading instead of paying attention to our practice?"

"I was hoping she'd Petrify Snape.  Or cut off his head, at least.  Did you see that sword she has?" Harry said.  "That's an unusual thing for a Professor to wear."

Ron shrugged.  "I didn't think class was so bad-"

Draco caught up with them. "Hey, Mudblood, I noticed you weren't even able to start summoning your shield. I guess real wizard skills are beyond you." Harry held Ron back as Hermione turned red.   
  
"It was the first class. I was restraining myself, Malfoy. After all, I'd hate to humiliate you in _every _subject," she retorted as she continued walking. Harry and Ron stopped to laugh, as Malfoy turned abruptly down another hallway, and then they caught back up to Hermione.  
  
"So you didn't like class?  I thought Professor Chance was all right. She said I have good balance and that shield spell is amazing!" Ron enthused.  
  
"She looks, er powerful, all right, and we'd better be careful if we don't want to end up Petrified. That was weird though, what she said about deciding how we'll use our magical skills," said Harry, not able to get her exchange with Draco out of his mind.  
  


" I think she's very odd. What is she doing, running around with a sword, and why do we need to learn balance? I don't want to work with dragons, or chase down Death Eaters! This is a school, not a sports academy!" Hermione sounded aggrieved, surprising the other two.   
  
"You really didn't like the class?" Ron said. "Are you all right? Do you have a fever or something?"

"I'm going to the library. See you later," said Hermione stiffly and ran off, leaving Harry and Ron slightly puzzled.  
  


~*~*~

Viviane threw open the door to her rooms and banged it behind her, then leaned against it, momentarily weak at the knees.  She'd closed her eyes in relief at finally being alone, but after a moment slowly opened them, and glanced almost fearfully around the room that she had been assigned.  It was, in spite of its size, a cozy place, with a desk in front of a three-sided window, and a capacious fireplace whose cherrywood mantle was carved with a motif of ravens and roses.  Empty bookcases stretched away on either side.

She unbuckled her sword, propped it in a corner, then took a few tentative steps forward.  Looking down in surprise, as her foot fell upon carpeting, she gave a start when she recognized the pattern.  Water was flowing from overturned chalices, the magical silver threads glittering almost imperceptibly as they moved through the weave of the carpet and the pattern of intertwined dragons and lilies.  Kneeling down, she ran her palms over the surface, then rubbed her face against it, inhaling the still strong scent of leather bindings, damp stone, and centuries of dripped wax.  "Aquitaine," she whispered, letting herself visualize for the first time in years the library of the school that no longer existed – the only sanctuary she had ever known.

The sight of a crate a few inches from her nose made her scramble back up.  The house elves had unpacked and set out everything else she'd brought with her; the malachite inkstand and piles of eagle-feather quills were on the desk next to neat stacks of parchment.  A landscape featuring a Loire valley chateau hung over the fireplace, and Viviane noticed with a laugh that it was currently in the midst of a violent storm.  _That always was a temperamental painting_, she thought.  

Through the doorway she could see a half-open armoire with her robes hanging in a neat row, sorted by color, and her blue silk dressing gown was laid out upon a magnificent four-poster bed.  _I'd forgotten how efficient house-elves are_, she thought, as she turned her attention to the crates of books that she had forbidden anyone to touch.  Resting her palms for a moment on a lid, she shivered.  _We were so panicked when these were last seen, so driven by fear, and the fear did not begin to match what happened…beyond imagination…_

Carefully, Viviane removed the top of the crate and picked up a book, touching the cover with a tender gesture, then hugged it to her chest as she dropped onto the sofa.  The room was quiet, with only the faint crackling of the fire to disturb the still air.  _I'm so used to living my life amidst a crowd, in small noisy rooms, constantly pushing and jostling for survival.  How will I ever make my way amongst these learned, sheltered people?  Since I've accepted Albus' invitation, I must do the best I can, and they shall have to live with it._

  
So far, her stay at Hogwarts hadn't been promising. The woman who'd rushed her from the train to the classroom seemed unhostile but vaguely suspicious, and Professor Snape was definitely hostile and infinitely suspicious. And she had a distinct feeling that Petrifying students was frowned upon.  She rested her chin on the top of the book and stared into the fire. This Professor Snape was not at all what she'd expected, after all the things she'd heard about him from the billywing smugglers. Not personable, as she thought a great teacher would be, not eloquent and certainly not happy about the teaching efforts of a half-educated witch. Viviane sighed and got up from the sofa to begin unpacking the books that had lain hidden for so many years.

~*~*~

After taking several wrong turns and getting momentarily trapped in a room full of amorous coat trees, Viviane found the Great Hall.  One hand was still busy brushing splinters from her clothing, but the other dropped automatically to her sword hilt as she crossed the floor, past tables of students intent on breakfast and the last-minute completion of assignments.  She slowed as she approached the faculty table, trying to catch Dumbledore's eye for a clue as to where she should sit, but he was engaged in a lively conversation with a pretty witch in a turban.  Glancing uneasily down the table, she saw the Professor who'd shown her to class smile and indicate an empty seat next to her.  With a grin of relief, Viviane hastened over to take it.

"Good morning, Professor Chance," Professor McGonagall greeted her.  "Tea?"

"Is there any coffee?  And perhaps a roll, or croissant?" Viviane asked, looking dubiously at the black and white pudding and sausages in front of her.

McGonagall picked up her unoccupied bread plate and muttered into it, then handed it to Viviane.  "There are rolls next to Filius – Filius, could you pass those over here?  The coffee will appear shortly, but I don't know how drinkable it will be.  The house-elves aren't used to making it."

"Oh, thank you, Professor-"

Her companion moved her head closer and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.  "Please, call me Minerva.  We don't stand on ceremony between faculty members.  May I call you Viviane?"

"Please," Viviane said, relieved.  "No ceremony?  Not even him?"  She jerked her head towards Professor Snape, who was regarding them with an exceptionally sour look on his face.

Minerva began to cut up her sausage with short, precise strokes of her knife.  "There are exceptions to everything, Viviane, and he embodies most of them."

Viviane applied herself to shredding a roll.  "As long as he's an exception, I don't mind."

~*~*~

Harry was picking listlessly at his scrambled eggs, worry over Sirius Black and the upcoming Quidditch match competing with anger about being left behind for the trip to Hogsmeade.  He wasn't even paying attention to Ron and Hermione's latest quarrel over Crookshanks when Ron broke off and elbowed him in the ribs.

"Look, there's Professor Chance! She's still wearing that sword.  What does she expect, trolls at breakfast?" Harry, jolted out of his reverie, studied Professor Chance closely for the first time and realized that she looked less scary and a great deal tidier than he remembered.  She had lots of dark, wavy hair that had been a mess yesterday but this morning was kept back in a loose bun with two jeweled, ebony sticks, and she had a figure that elicited a few appreciative murmurs from sixth-year Hufflepuffs at the next table.  Her soft, moss green eyes currently looked benign, but Harry still retained the vivid memory of just how piercing they could be when trained on him.  She wore tailored black robes of fine but well-worn material edged in velvet that contrasted oddly with her haughty features and informal manner.   
  
As Harry turned to answer Ron, he heard Hermione offering her opinion of the new professor. "Well, her accent is a mixture of things, but mostly French, I think. She certainly has strange taste in jewelry - that serpent ring with the diamond fangs she's wearing is positively creepy."  
  
"How old do you think she is?" wondered Harry.  
  
"She seems, somehow, both older and younger than she looks," replied Hermione. "I don't know, I can't explain it, but-."   
  
"You mean you haven't looked it up yet?" said Ron with an innocent air.   
  
"Oh, do be quiet and finish your breakfast, otherwise you'll be late for class again," said Hermione.

~*~*~

Viviane was staring morosely into a cup of lukewarm, watery coffee when she heard Professor McGonagall utter a 'hem' of disapproval.  Looking up, she saw a thin witch swathed in floaty pastel robes and innumerable ropes of beads, peering at the room through an enormous pair of spectacles.  "Who's that," whispered Viviane.  "The proprietor of the local tea shop and dedicated customer of Wispy Wear, Limited?"

McGonagall cleared her throat.  "Professor Trelawney has been entertaining us for years with the most amazing predictions, none of which-

Still standing in the doorway, Trelawney began to sway, her face set in an odd, faraway expression. "You!" she pointed at Viviane who scowled back. "You bring danger! Your inheritance cannot be refused! Where you go, danger follows!"  
  
Viviane's face went white and she leapt to her feet, breathing through her nose and hissing slightly at Trelawney, as four tables of students and a table of teachers turned to stare. Her hand dropped to her sword, but before she could draw it out of its scabbard, Professor McGonagall's hand clamped firmly onto her arm.

"That is, until now," the Transfiguration Professor concluded.  "There is no murder allowed before lunch, Viviane."

Viviane tore her arm out of Professor McGonagalls grasp and pushed back her chair, sending it clattering away behind her. "There should be another rule about predictions over breakfast," she snarled, and stalked off the dais. The row of Ravenclaws she passed on her way out cowered against the table, and everyone watched, fascinated, the narrowing gap between the irate witch and the still-entranced Trelawney. Viviane was just over halfway there when Trelawney backed away and resumed walking to her rooms. The new Professor's snort of contempt echoed back across the Great Hall as she pointedly turned down the corridor opposite the one Trelawney had taken, and there was a few seconds of silence before everyone noisily resumed the meal.   


~*~*~

As Ron and Harry left Lupin's class, they were still discussing Trelawney's prediction of the morning. "I wonder if Professor Chance could be a Death Eater? Is that what Trelawney is trying to tell Dumbledore?" queried Ron.   
  
"No. Personally, I think Trelawney's just nuts," Harry replied, trying not to think about his recurring Grim and the Divination Professor's insistence about his impending death. "Or right, for once." chimed in Hermione. "Not that Professor Trelawney would be missed, but I really think Professor Chance would have murdered her this morning, given the opportunity."  
  
She stopped, embarrassed, as the subject of their speculations was heard shouting down the hall. 

"Remus? Remus Lupin?" 

Professor Lupin turned around, along with the rest of the students just leaving his class. Professor Chance stood at the end of the hall for a moment, before breaking into a run that turned into a slide, interrupted when he grabbed her and she staggered to a halt. 

"Remus!  Remus, you didn't write….I didn't know….I could kill you for not telling me that you're here!" she exclaimed, then began to laugh as Professor Lupin swept her into a hug.  "You look wonderful," she continued, leaning back to cradle his face in her hands after planting a kiss on the tip of his nose.  He released her from the hug and held her away from him, taking in every detail of her appearance.

  
"So do you, Viv. I always said you should have contacted Albus about teaching here, but you wouldn't hear of it. What changed your mind?"   
  
"Oh, I needed a rest," she replied. "Where were you during breakfast this morning?"   
  
"Wouldn't you like to know!  Let's sit down and start to catch up."  Professor Lupin led her by the arm into the teachers' lounge.  Ron, Hermione and Harry looked at each other in bafflement. "Now I don't know what to think," said Hermione. "That's a first," Ron couldn't help remarking.  
  


~*~*~

"Strawberry?" Remus asked, offering Viviane the bowl of fruit.  

"Thanks.  Rook!" she exclaimed, picking up the piece she had captured and taking a long sip of wine.

Remus sat back to consider his next move.  "So you've got Slytherin and Gryffindor in your third year class. Have fun - they don't like each other much.  Usually Dumbledore doesn't combine Houses in Defense classes," he murmured, a little sleepy from dinner.   
  
"Thanks for the moral support, Remus. There, I think you have my knight. I guess my classes are exceptions, since they're additions to the schedule and yes, my fourth year class is Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and there's a lot less tension. So what's up with Draco Malfoy? Is he spawn of Lucius?"  
  
"Yes. Nasty kid, all told. He and Harry Potter are sworn enemies. You might want to keep them away from each other in class. Your turn."  
  
"Well, who wouldn't be nasty, with a father like that? But I'll keep an eye on them - Harry seems like a level-headed kid, especially after losing both of his parents and then being thrust into the wizard world with little notice. And by the way, Professor Snape is quite unhappy with me. He gave me a little lecture on Hogwarts teaching methods."  
  
"Ah, Severus," Lupin said. "Don't worry, he treats everybody pretty much the same way. I think you've given the students something to think about though. They seem nervous, but excited about your class."  
  
"I'm a bit of a culture shock for them, am I?" Viviane laughed.  
  
"A bit. Most of us don't stalk around Hogwarts armed with swords.  Trelawney's performance this morning didn't help, although nobody takes her too seriously here - but with Sirius Black on the loose everybody's jumpy."

Viviane dropped her gaze to the board, picking up a pawn to twirl between her fingers.  "You say his name quite casually, now.  What did it take for you to learn that?"

Remus captured her hand and returned the pawn to the chessboard.  "Time, mostly.  Some effort.  Viviane, what about you?  What is this inheritance Trelawney mentioned?  You've never told me, even after ten years of friendship, about your youth…your family."  
  
Viviane sighed in exasperation. "Remus, how on earth do you cope with all of this? Horrible coffee, tons of students, house rivalries, unsettling predictions at breakfast, Harry Potter, Sirius Black...I'll never get it straight! And I only teach four classes! How do the rest of you do it?  Hey, I needed that bishop."  
  
Lupin laughed. "You haven't lost your gift for evasion.  Viv, the rest of us haven't been knocking around the world, picking up arcane sets of magical skills! Don't worry, you'll be fine. And I'm afraid you might have to brew your own coffee - the house elves are used to making tea."

Viviane grinned at him.  "That won't be the first time.  I'll have to rummage out that coffeepot I used when we were living in Shipley."

~*~*~

Next morning, Viviane was well into a muffin when the usual flock of owls arrived with messages. All of a sudden the normal deliveries were disrupted when the owls took fright and scattered, hooting madly and dropping letters and packages pell-mell onto random tables as students shrieked and tried to avoid the postal missiles and crashing tableware. Viviane caught sight of a wheeling figure with fierce eyes and extended claws. She stood up and exclaimed "Malhereuse! Malhereuse! Come down here! Stop it!"   
  
The peregrine falcon circled one last time around the room, and then settled on Viviane's shoulder, where she'd thrown some napkins as a landing pad. Students began to cautiously poke their heads out from under tables or roll out from underneath benches, where they'd taken shelter. McGonagall and Flitwick were bug-eyed from shock, Snape was furiously picking bacon off of his robes, Dumbledore looked amused, and Lupin was laughing so hard that he was choking. 

Viviane, utterly mortified, surveyed the devastated hall and looked at Dumbledore out of the corner of her eye. He met her perturbed glance with a cheerful "My dear, you have a lovely falcon! Malhereuse is his name?" Dumbledore extended an oatmeal-splattered arm, and the falcon tentatively climbed onto it. "Lovely!" said Dumbledore, peering at the bird. "Perhaps you should arrange to meet on the terrace from now on?"   
  
"Of course, Albus. I didn't realize the owls would take such fright." Viviane began to wonder if she'd ever get through a breakfast at Hogwarts.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

 "Get up.  Come along, get out of bed, you lazy creature."

"Mmmmmph."

"Out. Of. Bed.  You'll be late for class."

Viviane rolled over.  "Shut up."  She hadn't had a bed this large in years, and she reveled in the fact that she could stretch her long body out without hanging over an edge.

"Professor Chance, get out of bed NOW, or I shall be forced to scream."

Viviane raised her head to look at her clock, rattling around on her nightstand, the numbers on its face scrunched up in fury.  "All right, all right, I'm up…oh hell, look at the time."  She gave the clock a slap, sending it bouncing into a corner near the fireplace.  "Wake me sooner, next time!" she exclaimed as she flung herself out of bed and towards the bathroom, discarding clothing as she ran.

"I'd much prefer working for a nice, over dedicated Undersecretary," the clock sighed, eliciting a murmur of sympathy from the fender.

After tossing on the robe she'd worn the day before, Viviane exited her rooms and sprinted down the hall, her hair in a simple ponytail rather than pulled back in the usual loose bun. Trying not to spill the coffee in her enormous mug, she skidded into her classroom and plopped down in her chair, eyeing her third-year students as they stared at her in amazement. "Not a word," Viviane warned them, "until I drink some of this coffee." She took a long sip, silently cursing herself for oversleeping. Movement in the back of the room caught her eye, and she stared over the rim of her mug at the perpetrators, who had their wands out and were about to zap each other. "Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Finnigan," she said, "one thing you never want to learn is what happens when you piss off a witch with an unmet caffeine addiction." The wands disappeared instantly and both boys tried to look unconscious of doing anything wrong.

Taking another swig, eyes closed, she thought, _Oh, to be back in the smuggling business_, took a deep breath and opened them again.  "All right, stand up and let me see what, if anything you've learned since our last class."  
  
As the students got up to practice their Shield spell, Viviane found that the class was doing fairly well. Ron Weasley was keeping his shield up for several minutes, and it was strong enough to repel a few mid-level curses that she threw at him. Most of the others were managing to at least summon the shield, except for Hermione Granger, who let out a shriek as Draco Malfoy slyly hit her with an Engorgio curse. Viviane reversed the curse, and then turned on Draco, who was shaking with laughter. "Mr. Malfoy," Viviane said quietly. "In my class, you will not throw a curse without warning, and you will stay after class for a little talk with me. Twenty-five points from Slytherin." The class fell silent, as they sensed the fury behind her glare. Draco pretended to search for something in his satchel to avoid it.  
  
After class Viviane, arms crossed and head tilted, surveyed Draco thoughtfully as he sat in front of her desk. The boy stared back at her through half-lowered lids, his pale eyelashes barely flickering as, under her scrutiny, he lounged negligently in his seat.  Viviane noticed, as the silence lengthened, that his fingertips were beginning to turn white where they clasped the arms of his chair.   Finally, she leaned her chair on its back legs and remarked, "Draco, you seem like a rather intelligent boy. Why would you do something so stupid? Surely you don't think you'd get away with it?"   
  
"N-No," replied Draco. Lifting up his chin, he said "Besides, I didn't do anything. I'll tell my father you're being unfair- "   
  
Viviane set her chair back down with a bang, causing Draco to jump. "Act your age and let's settle this without running to Daddy, shall we? You're not stupid. You've got some talent for this type of magic, so let's not waste our time with idiotic behavior. Agreed?" As Draco nodded, surprised, and got up to leave, Viviane suddenly asked "How difficult is it to be stuck with both Harry Potter and Hermione Granger in so many classes?"  
  
Draco looked at her, shocked. "How would you know-"   
  
"Oh, I've got an idea," said Viviane with a hint of a smile. "Just keep it out of my classroom." Draco left, looking slightly taken aback.  
  
****  
  
After finishing with Draco, Viviane continued to sit at her desk, running her finger slowly along the edge and trying to remember what else had happened to bother her that day, and who had been involved.  _Neville Longbottom?  No, he finally managed to raise the Shield long enough to not end up a mess of boils and odd facial tics.  Harry Potter?  _Getting up from her chair, Viviane began to pace about the room.  _Not that one.  He's perfectly competent, and perfectly satisfied to sink into the crowd, for once._ A smile of wry sympathy curled her lips. _I've found that experience to be a profound relief._

Then she recalled the scorching look Hermione had thrown at her upon leaving class. _Why_, Viviane wondered, _would that studious know-it-all be upset with me?_ Suddenly she realized that Hermione was the only student who hadn't been able to raise even the weakest shield. "Her pride is hurt," Viviane said aloud.  _It would be, if she's as ruthlessly brilliant as she appears to be, and from the way Minerva raves about her Transfiguration skills_.  "Time to tweak that pride a little," she remarked to Malhereuse, just arrived through the window to drop a writhing vole at her feet.

  
The next day Viviane tracked Hermione down in the library, where she was studying alone, and sat down at the table.  The girl looked up briefly, then returned to her reading.  
  
"Er, hello.  Hermione, I was wondering whether you had some free time this evening. I think you could use some extra help on that shield we're working on. You're doing fine with the research and memorization portion of the class, but the practical seems to need work"  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed as she looked back up at Viviane. "This Shield Spell is nonsense - I simply don't understand it. Everybody in class is able to at least start one - even Neville Longbottom! I follow your instructions exactly and nothing happens."   
  
Viviane pursed her lips at the frustration in Hermione's voice. "Hermione, this type of magic is not something that is easily picked up - some people just have more natural talent at it." She realized immediately she'd said the wrong thing when Hermione grew red.  
  
"Ask Professor McGonagall if I have talent! I think your class is silly and I don't have any free time because of my class load. I'm going to ask her if I can drop your class - we already have a Defense class with Professor Lupin, and I'm learning far more useful spells there than I ever have in yours." Hermione picked up her books and fled, leaving Viviane sitting at the table with a wry smile on her face.

~*~*~

Viviane spent the next day ostensibly walking the perimeters of the Forbidden Forest but really wondering how she was going to solve the problem of Hermione. After dinner, which she had spent abstractedly murmuring admiring words as Professor Vector expounded upon his latest article accepted by the academic journal _Magical Maunderings_, she sat staring into the fire, still unsure of what to do.  _I could just let her drop the class, but she needs to learn these skills.  I could keep her for an extra half-hour for the next several classes… her schedule is too full.  Ask Remus for advice?  No, he's had no experience with surly preteen girls, none that I know of, anyway.  Treat her to a good slap upside the head?  Tempting._

Hermione's suggestion about asking Professor McGonagall about her talent came to mind. "Minerva," murmured Viviane thoughtfully, and said to Malhereuse, who was half asleep on his perch. "So what would Minerva prefer? The Moravian or the Loire vintage? Loire, I think." She rummaged through her wine cooler for the appropriate bottle and began the walk to McGonagall's rooms in Gryffindor Tower.

  
As she entered the room at Professor McGonagall's invitation, Viviane smiled and held out the bottle of wine. "I noticed you had your fourth year Gryffindor class today and thought you might need some help recovering from Fred and George Weasley."   
  
Professor McGonagall looked up, surprised, but smiled wearily. "Oh, thank you! I spent most of class trying to reverse the effects of bug-eyed caramels they'd just handed out. Why the students would eat anything those two have touched still amazes me. My, this is wonderful!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed as Viviane tapped the cork out, poured and handed her a glass.  
  
"Thanks. I picked it up last time I stopped in the France. Yes, Zonko had better watch his profits if those two ever think to open up shop in Hogsmeade. He'd be out of business in a week." Viviane settled down in a chair. "I've got a problem in the most surprising area. Hermione Granger is -"  
  
"Ah yes." Professor McGonagall looked down and began to twirl the stem of her wineglass. "She's asked to drop your class. It's most surprising. I can see why she would have no patience with Divination, but she's brilliant when it comes to spells and charms."  
  
Viviane hesitated for a second, then replied "I'm teaching a spell that uses a different method than wand work. It helps greatly if you have an affinity for it, and she apparently doesn't. You can learn it - I did - but it takes time and patience. She's shut me out completely when I've tried to help. I'm not sure what to do."  
  
"Perhaps we should let her drop the class. Hermione is taking too many already, in my opinion and one of them is a Defense class with Professor Lupin."  
  
Viviane got up and began to pace. "Minerva, do you believe Voldemort is growing stronger?"  
  
Professor McGonagall looked surprised at the question and then sighed. "I hope not. Right now I'm more worried about Sirius Black. Voldemort was near death when Quirrell was carrying him around."  
  
Viviane had continued to pace, but she stopped short and knelt down by the arm of Professor McGonagall's chair, gripping it tightly. "Minerva, I have a lot of contacts around the fringes of the wizard world. We see and hear a lot that you don't and believe me, Voldemort is gathering his forces. He's getting help from someone." Viviane leaned in closer. "If he wanted to demoralize Hogwarts by attacking a prominent student, and make a point about his feelings towards Muggles, who do you think he'd choose? I can't say this to Hermione - I don't think Voldemort's threat is close enough that I'd want to terrify the students. But, Minerva, this girl needs to learn every defense she can. She's so vulnerable."  
  
Viviane got back up, too upset to sit still, and ran her hands down her face tiredly. "Is there any way you can reconcile her to a meeting with me to possibly salvage her interest in my class? I have a way I can help her master this spell. At least I think so."  
  
Professor McGonagall sat still, twisting the stem of her wine glass around. "Surely the students are safe at Hogwarts. And Albus wouldn't let Hermione go home if he thought there was any danger-"  
  
"There's no danger here, now. Hopefully not ever." Viviane took a gulp of wine. "But the threat of future danger is here, and growing."  
  
Professor McGonagall considered the request, eyeing Viviane as if gauging her for paranoia. "Well, I'll have her meet with you one more time. If you can't get through to her then, I think it may be best to let her drop the class altogether. Perhaps she can pick it up next year, when her class load won't be so heavy. At least I hope it won't be."  
  
Viviane sat back down and sighed with relief. "Thank you, Minerva. Now, would you be so kind as to catch me up with Hogwarts gossip? Tell me about the Weasleys. Just how many of them are there, and have they all gone to Hogwarts?" They both settled down to more wine and an interesting evening of chat.  
  


~*~*~

Viviane wandered about the classroom, waiting for Hermione.  The silly girl had her more rattled than she liked to admit, sitting at the front of class, disapproval of Viviane's teaching methods radiating from her resentful eyes and stiff posture. _Please, let me be fair to her_, said Viviane to herself. Stopping at a window, she looked out and tried to quell her bitter envy of the girl. Hermione had everything she'd wanted once - a full academic life, recognition, support, parents who let her follow a chosen path without contest. Viviane leaned against the glass and briefly imagined what her life might have been, then banished it from her mind and nerved herself to face Hermione simply as another of her students, one who needed help.  
  
Hermione knocked and opened the door, hostility emanating from every line of her body. Viviane scrutinized her as the girl paused, one hand lingering on the doorframe while her eyes took in the bookcases, overflowing with tomes and scrolls and intriguing _objects d'art_.  She reluctantly turned her head to look at Viviane, who uncrossed her arms in a gesture of invitation.

"Come in."

She took hesitent steps forward into the room.  "Professor?"

"Hermione, I'm going to try and help you with this spell. I think it's difficult for you simply because you're so good at channeling with your wand that it makes it harder to use other methods. So, to help you understand what a proper wandless summoning feels like, I am going to use a technique that is a little unorthodox. But it needs mutual trust to be effective, so stop glaring and work with me, will you?"  
  
"Why?" questioned Hermione. "I still can't understand why I need this class-

  
Viviane gave a short laugh. "You must be more sheltered than I thought, if you don't understand-"

"Besides, we're learning Defense with Professor Lupin."  A look of horror crossed Hermione's face, and her fingers flew up to her mouth as she backed away, bumping up against the edge of the teacher's desk.  Viviane stalked across the room to tower above her.

"You stupid little Muggle," she said, in a low, quiet tone that made Hermione cringe,  "never interrupt me again.  What a naïve child you are, walking into our world prepared with nothing except memorized information and a few simple charms.  You're a clever girl, I'll give you that, but all you've got now is a store of facts and lots of wand practice.  The acquisition of knowledge, real knowledge, and true power, will take sacrifices you cannot yet comprehend."

Hermione had straightened up and braced herself against the desk.  "I- I've made sacrifices.  I've spent evenings in the library-"

Viviane crossed her arms and began to laugh.  "Oh yes, you've missed the occasional Quidditch victory party, I'm sure, poring over _Hogwarts, a History_ and practicing how to make a pincushion out of a porcupine.  Not to mention learning about how to escape from Hinkypunks.  That'll come in handy when you're running for your life, chased by a squadron of Death Eaters."  

"Professor Lupin is your friend," Hermione said, the gold specks in her brown eyes beginning to flash in anger.

"Yes, he is, and he would agree with everything I'm saying to you.  Think about this.  You're a child of Muggles. You're a star student. Therefore, you're a prime target if and when Voldemort decides to take on Hogwarts. Do you really want to face him armed only with Transfiguration spells and important dates in wizarding history?  Are you going to stand there and threaten him with empty curses, like those with which you're spoiling to use on me right now?"  
  
Hermione stared, shocked, at Viviane. "But I thought Harry was the target-"  
  
"He is. But we all are in the end, aren't we, if Vol-"  
  
"Stop saying his name!"

Viviane began to laugh.  "Frightened of a name, are you?"  
  


"I'm not afraid of _you_ – much.  And I won't let you hurt Harry, if that's what you came here to do."

Viviane took another step towards the girl, who tightened her shaking fingers around her wand. "If I wanted to hurt Harry, there aren't too many who could stop me," Viviane commented.  "Dumbledore, perhaps.  Certainly not you.  And if you don't start thinking about things a little differently, you never will."  Her voice softened. "I don't mean to use scare tactics, Hermione, but I think you're intelligent enough to realize the truth of what I'm saying."  
  
"M-maybe. But what are you going to do?"  
  
"I'm going to summon the shield, but I'm going to use your body to do it. That way, you can feel how the spell is conjured, and get the hang of it. It's a little trick I learned in, er, my travels."  
  
Hermione thought about it. "That doesn't sound good - it sounds like a Dark Art to me. You'd control my body? Could you read my mind?"  
  
"I doubt the Ministry would smile upon this technique, so yes, in a sense it would be a Dark Art. But I don't think anybody in the Ministry would've heard of this, so at the moment it's a neutral art. I'll only control your body to the extent of creating the shield, and only if you consent. If you fight me, I won't be able to do it, or I'd hurt you. As for mind-reading, that is a very, very dangerous pastime. Not recommended at all. Shall we?"  
  
Hermione sat and thought for a few moments longer. Viviane watched her surreptitiously as fear and stubborn pride fought with curiosity on Hermione's face. "All right," Hermione finally conceded. "I'll try it. But I'm not sure I like it, and I'm not sure I really trust you."  
  
Viviane laughed. "Good enough! I like knowing where I stand with people. Come here." Viviane stood behind Hermione and placed one arm firmly around her shoulders and a hand on her forehead. "Try and relax. I'm going to start the spell now, so try not to think, or fight me. Just feel what it's like to conjure the shield, and try to remember how it works."  
  
Hermione gave a start when Viviane, using the girl's body, created the shield but allowed Viviane to control the process. Hermione, apparently fascinated, stood still, deep in concentration. After a moment Viviane sighed and relaxed as the shield disappeared. "Why don't you try one on your own?" Viviane suggested, as she moved away and sat down.   
  
They both jumped as Professor Lupin's voice sounded from the fireplace, "Do you have a moment, Viv?"  
  
"Sure, Remus!" She turned to Hermione. "I'll be right back. Why don't you practice the shield on your own while I'm gone?"  
  
When Viviane returned, Hermione, after a few unsuccessful tries, finally managed a thin shield that only lasted a few seconds. But it was enough. Viviane leapt up, applauding. "See, you just needed a nudge in the right direction! Congratulations!"  
  
"It wasn't exactly strong. It couldn't even repel a Jelly-Legs Jinx." Hermione said, attempting nonchalance but still looking pleased.  
  
"Keep trying. It will get stronger as you go along, and class will be much more pleasant when you can repel Ron's onslaught of twitchy-ear curses! Will you keep my class on your schedule?"  
  
"I suppose." Hermione gave Viviane a penetrating stare and began to say more, but suddenly left the room, leaving Viviane wondering just where she stood in Hermione's estimation.

~*~*~

"You're reading that? Most of us had that memorized by the time we were 16."   
  
Viviane looked up from her perusal of _Hogwarts: a History _at Snape, who had walked into the teachers' lounge and was regarding her with a sneer. "I'm afraid I've spent most of my time in Constantinople and New York, among other places. Hogwarts was hardly the topic of endless conversation," Viviane said. "So I'm doing some catch-up in between classes."   
  
"Really," replied Snape as he settled into a chair by the fire. "What were you doing in Constantinople and New York, besides picking up ill-behaved falcons? A little trade in the Dark Arts here and there? Your vaunted Defense skills sound rather unorthodox to me."  
  
"Word gets around here, doesn't it? Has the young Master Malfoy been telling tales?" Viviane replied as she went back to reading.   
  
"All of the students are unsettled by you and your antics, Chance. Have you ever taught a class before, or even gone to a wizarding school?"   
  
"Shall I write my autobiography and hand it in at end of term?" Viviane snapped. "Yes, I went to a wizarding school and if Albus was bothered by what or how I teach, he wouldn't have hired me." Snape gave her a nasty look and then buried his head in _The Daily Prophet_.  
  
"Stock in Zonkos is up, Blotts is down, Fudge made idiotic comments about the situation in Romania, and mauve lipstick is the new shade amongst fashion-conscious witches," Viviane murmured, eliciting an irritated huff from Snape.  She had just gone back to reading when Professor McGonagall looked in. "Oh, Viviane, there you are. I have a favor to ask of you. Nobody else is available to oversee the Gryffindor Quidditch practice this evening. Could you possibly help us out?"  
  
"Quidditch? Is that that sport I hear so much about? The thing on broomsticks?"  
  
"You didn't have Quidditch at-?"   
  
"No!" said Viviane. She laughed. "That would have been considered frivolous." McGonagall looked shocked, and Snape rustled his paper in an exasperated manner.  
  
"Oh.  At Hogwarts, winning the Quidditch Cup is most important, to the students and faculty. They'll be meeting at the field in an hour. Can you make it?" Professor McGonagall asked.  
  
"Sure," said Viviane, wondering exactly what she'd signed up for.  
  
****  
  
"You can't be serious!" Viviane exclaimed. "You're crazy! They let you DO this?"  
  
"Oh come on, Professor Chance," said George. "I bet you're great at flying!"   
  
"Well, I do like a good fast broom, but I use it for transportation or relaxation, not chasing these little balls around while being attacked by other little balls."   
  
"The Snitch!" interrupted Harry, at the same time Oliver said "Bludgers!" in a scandalized tone.   
  
"Oh. Right. Go at it, then. But don't people get hurt falling off their broomsticks?" At the students' appalled expressions, Viviane said "Never mind. I'll watch from the stands." The team got on their brooms, some still shaking their heads over the professor's ignorance, and began their practice. Despite her misgivings, Viviane was impressed by the skill of the players, especially Harry Potter, and found herself almost enjoying the practice as the Gryffindors swept through intricate plays and cut the air with sharp banking maneuvers, lying flat along their broomsticks.

At last, sweaty and tired, happy, the students lowered themselves to the ground and, shouldering their brooms, headed towards the athletic wing.  
  
"So," Viviane said on the walk back to the castle, "who's your biggest rival?"  
  
"Slytherin," replied Oliver in a sepulchral tone. "They beat us last year, and have won the cup the last seven years running."   
  
"Professor Snape's house," remarked Viviane. "Go figure. Oops, forget I just said that. Well, good luck with the rest of the year!"   
  
"You are coming to the games, aren't you?" asked George.   
  
"Of course. Wouldn't miss it!" replied Viviane, thinking she didn't have much choice in the matter.   
  
"Did you ever really fly?" broke in Angelina.   
  
"Oh yeah," said Viviane as she turned towards the castle porch, "wrecked some great brooms back in New York - I always had problems avoiding those gargoyles on the Chrysler building. Don't get any ideas, the lot of you," she yelled over her shoulder as she entered the hall.  
  


   
****  
  
Meanwhile the faculty, with the exception of Viviane, met in Dumbledore's office at the request of Professor Snape. "She's nothing more than a vagabond, who has implied to me that she thinks Hogwarts unimportant. Untaught, unmannered, rude, with skills that are doubtful at best. She lets her class run wild and I don't know about you, but I -"  
  
"Severus," interrupted Dumbledore. "She's here on my invitation, and will stay as long as I can keep her. If you must know, she was born in France, but has traveled widely, including the East and the United States. Along the way, she's studied other methods of magic and has, perhaps, the widest knowledge of obscure defense skills of any witch or wizard today. So make her welcome, please." The rest of the teachers nodded.   
  
"I don't see why you find her so objectionable, Severus," said Flitwick. "She has a thorough knowledge of Charms and although I find her skills, ahem, exotic, they may well help our students in the future."   
  
"I agree," said McGonagall. "She may have her rough edges, but if she can teach Hogwarts students some decent defenses...after the late fiascos..."   
  
"She is someone to count on in tough situations," Lupin quietly chimed in. "We're lucky to have her, and she may be the advantage our students need in future challenges."   
  
Snape curled his lip and said "Well, Remus, you would think so. I'm still going to be careful when it comes to Mademoiselle Chance." He stalked out of the room, and the rest of the teachers exchanged faintly amused glances as they followed him downstairs.  
  
****  
  
When Viviane entered the faculty lounge, she noticed that Remus was the only person there, so she flopped dramatically into a chair opposite him and declared "I have been officially deflowered. I am no longer a Quidditch virgin, having witnessed the Gryffindor practice!" Lupin looked up from his book and grinned at her.   
  
"That's right, I remember you never were a sports fan. What do you think?"   
  
"Frankly, I think you're all nuts to let students fly thirty feet in the air while being attacked or bludgered or whatever it's called. But boarding school culture, I'm beginning to realize, is far beyond my comprehension."  
  
"Oh come on, Viv, not that far. You went to one, although you've always refused to tell me which it was."  
  
Viviane sighed and said "Yes, but it's been fifteen years, it was not an English school, and I only got halfway through my fourth year. So far I've managed to offend or shock practically every member of Hogwarts' faculty, and Albus has the patience of a saint, or I'd have been let go by now. These students know so much that I don't, Remus, and it puts me at a disadvantage; hell, I don't even recognize some the low-level charms my fourth-years toss at me."  
  
Lupin leaned forward, grasped Viviane's hands, and gave her a stern look. "Give yourself a break. You have more knowledge about more subjects than probably anybody here, so you shouldn't feel inadequate. Don't sweat the culture clashes." Lupin started to laugh. "Honestly, I find them highly entertaining when I'm lucky enough to witness them." He released her hands, sat back, and began to laugh harder. "If you could have seen Severus' face the morning Malhereuse...."  
  
"Oh, I saw it. He thinks I crawled out of a bog. And why not? I've never been taught a thing about potions, and my formal education stops-"  
  
"Relax," interrupted Lupin. "Just remember, these students need you, and try to teach them at least a little of what you know. That's all we ask." He smiled at her, and Viviane grinned back wickedly as she got up and clasped his hand.   
  
"I wonder if you know just what you're asking for! Thanks for the pep talk. I-"   
  
The door opened and Snape strode into the room with a smoking goblet. "Here you are, Lupin." He glanced at Viviane. "For your cold."   
  
"Thank you, Severus." Lupin said as Snape left the room. Viviane looked at Lupin quizzically, and he explained "It's a remedy for my - ongoing problem. Wolfsbane. I would not have agreed to teach here without it." Viviane's face softened, and she dropped a kiss on Lupin's forehead before returning to her room.  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Viviane swung herself onto the terrace railing and stared up at the constellation Cassiopeia.  _You thought you had a tough time_, Viviane told her.  _You weren't a professor charged with teaching Fred and George Weasley dangerous curses_.  The next moment she grinned, remembering the salutary effect of the Shrinking Spell she'd directed at their more vulnerable areas.  _They'll think twice about casting another_ _Negative Force spell on my chair after that.  Neville Longbottom hasn't caused a disaster in a week.  And Hermione Granger, while not exactly enthusiastic, has stopped tutting under her breath during class._

Grasping the railing more firmly and leaning backwards as far as she could go, Viviane undid the Staying spells that bound her hair and it tumbled free, strands of it blowing about in the wind that had kicked up after sunset.  

As she sat back up, Viviane's eye caught the glitter of the diamond fangs in her serpent ring, and she recalled, amused, the conversation she'd overheard between the Terrible Trio speculating about it, as well as the serpents on her sword.  It seemed she was regarded as either a raging Slytherin or an escapee from one of those Muggle horror films. Kicking her heels against the stone balustrade, she mulled over the strange custom of dividing the students into rival houses. Albus had offered to let her be Sorted, but the last thing Viviane wanted was to be arbitrarily thrown into some pre-defined group by a talking hat. She did wonder why Albus housed her in Ravenclaw - she, a woman of action. Well, he had a quirky sense of humor. And she did love her rooms.  
  
Viviane slid back onto the terrace, but she found herself pacing off the squares of the flagstones and forced herself to stop.  The only noise she could hear was the scrambling of creatures in the grass, eager to escape the talons of Malhereuse as he hunted for his evening meal; the unaccustomed quiet sent warning chills along nerves used to incessant clamor. She twisted the ring around, the one she'd had made in the shape of a striking serpent, to remind her of whom she was. Or had been. Or wanted to be.  The breeze could not longer mask her sense of apprehension, and, suddenly feeling exhausted, she turned to climb back into her rooms through the window. She made a mental note to ask Albus if she could cut a door onto the terrace from her rooms. Climbing through windows was silly.    
  
Viviane threw back the eiderdown quilt on her bed, with a sigh of ardent anticipation, tinged by a hint of regret.  _Such a fine bed, and I'm doomed to occupy it alone_, she thought.  _I certainly haven't seen anyone at Hogwarts I'd want to share it with_.  Just as she raised one leg to slide between the sheets, a chime sounded and her sneakoscope started to whirl. Hagrid's signal. She threw on some robes and her cloak and hastened out of the castle. Hagrid met her at the forests' edge, looking anxious. "You will be all right, Professor Chance, won't you?" Hagrid said.

Viviane shrugged.  "Of course. Go back to bed, Hagrid!" 

He looked down at her, concern narrowing his eyes and puckering his mouth.  "I doan' know. I'd rather wait for you.  It – it isn't a dragon is it?  You don't kill-" 

"To. Bed," ordered Viviane. "It will be but a few moments."  Ignoring his affronted "_Hrrrrumphs_," she made her way around the back of his hut.  
  
The Forbidden Forest closed around her as Viviane followed the tracks and the noises to a small glade, where the magicked dragon was busy setting fires among the branches of the oaks.  _Is this the best they can do_, she thought, as the small, spiky head turned towards her and, tail lashing, the dragon flexed its claws.  Viviane drew her sword and after a short flurry of swipes and counter-thrusts, she was bearing down upon the creature, about to finish it off, when she was startled by a noise behind her. Distracted, she snuck a glance around, and the dragon took the opportunity to rake its claws across her side, leaving ragged red lines in her flesh. Viviane gasped, staggered to one side, and tried to hold the beast off with her sword. As it lunged for whoever was behind her, she caught it across the throat and it screamed and vanished, leaving Viviane holding her side where blood was leaking through her ripped gown.  
  
Turning, sword ready to confront another enemy, she saw Ron and Harry, standing white and terrified behind her, an Invisibility Cloak on the ground around their feet.

They jumped backwards as Viviane hurled her sword into the damp earth of the Forbidden Forest, leaning on it for support as she glared at them.  "What are you doing here," she snarled.  "Do you realize you could have been killed?  You nearly caused me to be so-" To the relief of the boys, she stopped, gasping for breath for several seconds before resuming her glare.

"You two followed me in here, and you'll have to get me out. I'm rather weak from loss of blood, and I can't properly Staunch it until I get back to the castle." After wrestling her sword out of the ground, accompanied by curses that Ron, face scrunched in concentration, was obviously doing his best to remember, she sheathed it and beckoned for them to come towards her.  She held on to a shoulder of each, digging her fingers into their flesh just a little deeper than necessary, and they set off out of the Forest. "What possessed…. you to …follow me? Are you crazy?" Viviane queried, her breath coming in short gasps.   
  
"Well, no, Harry replied. "But I guess we've been curious about you because we've seen you go into the Forest at the oddest times."   
  
"Oh yes. That. Well, since we're just out of the Forest, let's sit down.  I'll explain some things…to you…while I rest up for our last leg of the walk.  The last thing I need…is to be the subject of wild rumors sweeping through Hogwarts."  
  
Ron's eyes met Harry's across Viviane's back. Elated despite their fear, they lowered a shaky Viviane to a seat on a fallen tree. "Here's the short version."   
  
"But-"  
  
"No time, Ron," Viviane interrupted. "Here's the story. I was hired by Dumbledore to stop various creatures that the Death Eaters are using to…challenge Hogwarts. That dragon you saw wasn't 'real,'  - created through a few very Dark Arts. They don't last more than a few hours…more of a nuisance than anything…a waste of our time. Could kill you though….I was hired to deal with them….and teach."

  
Viviane turned to Harry. "Harry, Trelawney was partially right that first morning. I'd be a welcome bonus to Voldemort, if captured, but I can't say why.  I don't know why."  Her teeth flashed in a ferocious, if pained, grin.  "I'm not quite the prize you are, though."  
  
"Does it have to do with your sword?" Ron interrupted, glancing over at Harry's face, which had gone even paler.  
  
"Possibly.  Right now I need to get back to the castle and attend to this wound. But you must promise me to tell no one - not a single person - about what I do in the Forbidden Forest…or that I'm wounded, or about my possible connection with Voldemort. Now help me to my feet."   
  
When Viviane's face went white and she nearly retched when they hauled her up, Ron and Harry realized just how badly Viviane was hurt, and how much blood was caked down the side of her gown and the inside of her cloak. "Oh, and your curiosity has cost Gryffindor 100 points," she panted.  
  
"You wouldn't!" Ron exclaimed, aghast.   
  
"I'm being quite lenient.  I should send Gryffindor into the negatives …for what you've done …tonight, but I'm in a generous mood. I must…explain the loss of points…Dumbledore's office first thing tomorrow morning. Got it?"   
  
"Do you want us expelled?" Harry whispered, horrified.   
  
"No, although it _would_ make my life easier. From what I've heard, you two have endangered several people … since you've started Hogwarts. I, for one, refuse to get killed through your stupidity. And need I mention that this place is lousy with Dementors and Sirius Black is running around loose?" Abashed, their protests silenced, Ron and Harry exchanged a resigned look as they started back to the castle.  
  
Ron and Harry's knees were nearly buckling as they all but dragged Viviane up the front steps of Hogwarts and into the entrance hall.  As Viviane let go of them and made a wild grasp at the newel, their sighs of relief turned into frozen panic when they heard a familiar and most unwelcome voice behind them. "So. What is this? Out after hours? _Professor Chance_?" Snape grabbed Viviane's arm and turned her to face him, his expression changing from triumphant to dumbfounded as he recognized his fellow faculty member. Viviane stared up at the Potions Master with a defiant frown.

"Ron, Harry, to your rooms.  _Now_.  I'll see you in the Headmaster's office, first thing tomorrow."  With guilty but relieved nods, they fled to the their room, leaving Viviane to face Snape, whose brows were contracted with ire and interest.  
  
He stared at her, his mouth curling down in acid disbelief. "What is going on? Practicing dark arts with Weasley and Potter, are we? Tours of the Forbidden Forest, maybe, indulging those Gryffindors in their insatiable thirst for dangerous pastimes?"   
  
Rage straightened Viviane's spine, her pain temporarily forgotten. "You've been demoted to Filch's assistant – I hadn't heard.  This is a matter I'll take up with Albus in the morning. Good night."  Snape stepped forward and grabbed her arm, but, startled to find her nearly as tall as himself, hesitated, his fingers tightening around her bicep with insistent pressure as he recovered and leaned in towards her.  
  
"I don't know what you are up to, but fair warning - I will find out.  And when I do, Dumbledore will be the first to know."   
  
"Fine." Viviane snapped. "Go ahead. I have his permission to be out, I will take responsibility for the actions of Ron and Harry, and I'm too tired to discuss this with you just now." Viviane swept away before Snape had a chance to detain her, but struggled with the heavy door to the Ravenclaw tower, her angry strength fast draining away.  Once inside, loss of blood made her lean against the wall and bend over, hands propped on knees.  _I can't faint…I can't…damn, how embarrassing…._  
  
Suddenly a hand was thrust into her face, and a voice said, "You're bleeding. You've been injured. What have you done?" Viviane looked up and Snape was staring at her, uncertain accusations in his eyes, holding out his hand that was smeared with blood. He threw back her cloak and blinked in shock at the sight of her bloodied gown. "You must go to Madame Pomfrey," Snape said. "You have gone and badly injured yourself doing..?"  His face swooped towards hers, his eyebrows lifted in mock inquiry.  
  
"Thanks for the concern, but I can't. I can't let anyone else know that I've been injured tonight."   
  
"Playing the heroine will get you nowhere," said Snape. "Don't be stupid, you'll bleed to death."   
  
"I won't. I know some spells that will help slow down the bleeding. I'm almost to my rooms, I can manage."  Viviane rolled away from him and, clutching the wall, began to inch along in the direction of her rooms.   She'd just built up some forward momentum when, without warning, she was thrown off balance by the tail of her serpent clasp digging into her throat.  With a gasp of shock that ended in gagging, she clawed at the stone, staggering and nearly falling backwards.  A hand grasped her elbow to steady her, and Viviane looked back to see Snape still standing behind her, a nasty smile on his face and one of his hands firmly twisted in the material of her hood.

  
"Unless you get better help than that, you're dead, because simple Staunching charms won't help that wound. We'll go to my office, where I'll brew a potion that will stop the bleeding and heal the wound if you insist on not seeking help."   His grin hardened into a sneer.  "Unnecessary heroics," he muttered as he began to pull her along.  "Waste of my time, and most unappealing."

Viviane, in a futile effort to clear her spinning head, began to count the sconces in the walls that swept by at a fast clip.  _Cannot faint…cannot faint…_  She tried to concentrate on the warmth of Snape's hand on her elbow, cold despite her woolen robe.  Doors opened, were silently shut, musty smells assaulted her nostrils, making her even more nauseous.  Suddenly his voice jumped out at her "Don't bleed on my carpet! Stay on the flagstones." Snape pushed her into a hard, uncushioned chair, and she watched as he threw ingredients into a cauldron, muttering to himself.   
  
Her eyes were nearly closed when he turned and bent towards her in a blur of dark wool, the folds brushing her knees as he curled his fingers around the battered mahogany owls adorning the arms of her chair.  She looked up and blinked in dizzy surprise.

"Chance, I suggest you refrain from taking Potter and friends on field trips. I'll help you out this once, but the Headmaster will surely not approve of students walking into the Forbidden Forest, especially if they're being taught whatever barbarian arts you engage in.  Dying a bloody death in a hallway of Ravenclaw Tower would be equally frowned upon."

Viviane stared into the dark eyes, suddenly so close to hers. They were impenetrable, with only the gleam of malice to relieve their depths.  
  
_Enough.  Enough of this impossible wizard_, Viviane thought, and wriggled her shoulders in a futile attempt to sit up.  "My title at this school is Professor, so please use it, _Severus_. I am not one of your students that you can bully with impunity. How dare you imply that I would willingly put any student in danger? Me, a barbarian? Spare me your insults and your cures." She tried to stand but found that it was a struggle.   
  
Snape reseated her with a push on her shoulder, and with the other handed her a cloth saturated with potion. "Here. Press this against the wound, and I'll give you some extra to use tomorrow. If you insist on teaching, wear a cloth soaked with the potion under your gown, and in a few days the wound will be gone."   
  
Viviane dabbed at the wound, wincing as the potion stung her ripped flesh. The stinging brought her to her feet just in time to see Snape putting up the rest for her to take. She snatched the flagon that Snape shoved at her, took some Floo powder from the box wordlessly held out, and disappeared into the fire.

  
~*~*~  
  
"So, you two followed Professor Chance into the Forbidden Forest." Dumbledore began. Harry and Ron nodded, their eyes studying their shoes. "And as a result, she sustained what Professor Snape tells me is a serious wound." Neither boy looked up.  Harry finally spoke. "I didn't realize...I'm really sorry..."   
  
"Apologies are inadequate, Mr. Potter. You put yourselves and Professor Chance in serious danger, all to satisfy your curiosity. I understand that you explained your role to them, Viviane?" She nodded, huddled in a chair with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee.  Behind her, she heard Snape murmur, "You look dreadful.  A pity you were so hostile last night; if you had displayed some manners, I might have brewed you a Sleeping Draught."  

Dumbledore cleared his throat, then explained Viviane's role to Snape, who glanced down at her incredulously.   
  
"Her? She's wandering around the Forbidden Forest by night and teaching by day? No wonder-"   
  
Dumbledore interrupted so smoothly that only Viviane noticed. "As for you two, I'm taking 100 points from Gryffindor, and if anything like this happens again, you will be expelled. Understood?" They both nodded, although Harry breathed "100 points! " to Ron. 

~*~*~  
  
"Wait.  _Wait a min_-" The voice was lost in gurgling.

Viviane propped herself up on her elbows and opened her eyes just wide enough to let in light.  _Damn those twin_s, she groused inwardly, and shut them again, ignoring the plight of Elliot Bones, hit broadside by Fred with some kind of Uncontrollable Drooling curse, from the looks of it.

Her wound apparently couldn't decide if it preferred to burn or itch, and taking her students outside to practice Shields while she napped on the lawn hadn't helped.  _At least this is my last class of the day_, Viviane thought, dropping back down on the chaise longue she'd Accio-ed from her sitting room.   Without opening her eyes, she yelled, "Class dismissed.  Those who need to go to the infirmary, do so."  She knew she'd be sure to hear about the various conditions of her students through Remus; he never failed to be amused by the results of her teaching methods.

She lay there for a few more moments, waiting until the last of her students' footsteps died away.  When she opened her eyes again, it was because something was tugging insistently at her hair, and sitting up hastily, she looked around.  It was dark, and Malhereuse was next to her, feathers ruffled, standing impatiently on one foot.  He released her hair as she stumbled to her feet in confusion, conscious that she was cold, damp and that her side hurt abominably.  "What time is it?  I'm too late for dinner, that's for certain; no matter, I'm not hungry, anyway.  Merlin's beard, how my side hurts."  She had a long way to go across the lawns to a room she knew would be cold, dark and silent, so different from the light and hubbub of the inns she'd been used to.  "No blasted Apparating on Hogwarts' grounds," she muttered, shaking a finger and adjusting an imaginary pair of half-moon spectacles as she stumbled to her feet and began the walk back to her rooms.  

A perfectly-made fire with a tray of bread, cheeses, soup and fragrant coffee set before it was the first thing that Viviane saw as she walked into her rooms.  Softly closing the door behind her, she leaned against it for a few seconds, blinking hard.  The light flickered off of the books lining the walls and sparkled in the silver threads of her carpet, bringing back sharp memories of returning to the chateau after fall evenings spent gathering apples in the Aquitaine orchards. Rubbing at her cheek in a dismissive gesture, she walked to the bedroom, shedding clothing and summoning a towel to wipe the dew off of her skin before wrapping herself in a dressing gown.

_I am hungry, after all_, Viviane thought as she sank down on the sofa.  _Starving_.  She tore off a piece of the still-warm bread and dipped it in the onion soup, equilibrium, if not strength, flowing back into her as she began to devour the food.  Afterwards, in between sips of coffee, she anointed her cloth with Snape's potion and pondered the strange behavior of the enigmatic wizard. 

After his irruption into her classroom that first day, she'd thought him one of the coldest men she'd ever met.  _But can a truly cold man be so bitter_, she wondered. Lounging back on the sofa and gazing into the fire, she murmured "You hate Harry, you loathe Remus, and distrust me. And yet you've been there to help all of us-" She shook her head and tried to settle down to correcting the stack of papers heaped in the corner of the sofa, but when she couldn't understand what point Gerald Goyle was trying to make, she gave up.  _Serves me right for assigning a paper to the entire class as punishment for…._ Viviane sighed, not able to remember what they had done to anger her and irritated at creating extra work for herself.

"Oh hell," she said loudly, and got up to pace around the room, her hands clasped on the top of her head as the potion began to dull the pain. "He'll only be rude to me," she remarked to Malhereuse, perched near the window. "But he's an important part of Hogwarts, a respected Professor, and I've only got Remus to depend upon here.  And even Remus is an outsider, after all these years.  I suppose I should try to get on with the damned wizard."  The bird just eyed her. "Sit there, then" she said. "Don't talk me out of it!"  
  
During her third agitated circuit around the room, Viviane's eye caught sight of a large, leather-bound book lurking in the corner of a bookcase.  Drawing it out, she ran her fingers over the vellum of the first page, tapped her fingers thoughtfully against it, then tucked it under her arm as she headed to the door.  Taking a deep breath, she flung it open before she could back out of her plan.  

There stood Snape, obviously about to knock. He nearly took a step backwards, but checked himself with a jerk badly disguised as increased hauteur as he surveyed her from head to foot.  "The students were right.  You do look awful, but you're able to stand, so you must not be wasting my potion.  I'll be going, then-"

   
"Yes. Well. It was a long day. Do come in." After a moment's hesitation, the wizard stalked past her and into the room. Viviane realized that she had been counting on the walk to Snape's office to figure out what to say to him, and she nervously tightened her grip on the book before setting it down on a table somewhere between the door and her desk.  Snape had stopped cold and he gazed around the room, his eyes wandering from the carpet to the paintings to the bookshelves, where he scanned the rows of titles, finally moving over to them, running a long finger down the spines. "Quite a library you have. Better than Hogwarts' collection in some aspects - some of these are extremely rare." He took one off the shelf and opening it, began to read.  
  
Viviane allowed herself a cynical smile. "Yes, this is my inheritance, of a sort. I realize you expected wooden utensils and bearskin. Sorry to disappoint." Viviane turned and asked "A glass of wine? I have some lovely Moravian cabernet."   
  
"On a school night?" Snape queried with horror as he sat down with the book. A wineglass was thrust into his hand and Viviane seated herself opposite him, holding her glass up.   
  
"To you," she said. "I'm sorry I was so rude last night. Thanks - thank you for all of your help in - in saving my life."   
  
Snape jumped.  He had taken a long sip of the wine and was staring at the rest with wonder when he looked across at her, surprised, and demanded, "What did you just say?"  
  
Viviane gave him a bemused smile. "I said thank you, Severus, for your help last night."  
  
Snape put the wine down, stood up and proclaimed, "I must go. I have class to prepare for." His robes swirled as he turned in a tight circle and strode towards the door.  
  
"Severus? Severus, wait!"  Viviane leapt to her feet and hurried after him, picking up the book she'd discarded earlier.  Snape halted, and turned on Viviane with an expression somewhere between panic and irritation.  She stopped abruptly.   
  
"What? I really have no more time to stay."   
  
"I want to give you this." Viviane said, holding out the massive tome. Instinctively, Snape took it and began to turn the leaves, a stunned look creeping over his face as he perceived what the book contained.   
  
"These are recipes for potions I've only heard rumors about...some of these are…are…" He looked at Viviane with narrowed eyes.   
  
She retorted, "I didn't steal it, if that's what you're worried about. It's mine legitimately. You are the only person I know who could find this useful, who has the skills to understand what is contained in this book." Her nervousness was unaccountably returning. "I have very little experience in brewing Potions, so it is of no use to me. All I ask is that you keep it safe."   
  
Snape flipped through it, scanning the pages. He stopped, a puzzled frown creasing his face as he tilted the book slightly.  Viviane had to smother a grin before explaining, "Some of the Potions are ancient – and written in ancient French. If you ever need me to translate, I'll be glad to. Some of the language here is practically unreadable to any but a few." Snape stood still, looking doubtfully between the book and Viviane. Then he said, "Thank you" and strode off down the hallway, still absorbed in scanning its contents.  
  
Viviane closed the door, rolled her eyes, remarked to Malhereuse, "Strange man!" and decided upon a second attempt at grading papers.  She squinted at Goyle's paper from several different angles.  "Deciphering ancient French is nothing, compared to this," Viviane muttered.  "I can't believe I have to grade these."  She looked down at the imposing pile next to her, and suddenly laughed.  "It was only a punishment, after all.  Not a real assignment."  Taking up the stack of parchment, she nearly set her flue on fire when she tossed them on top of the blazing logs, and picking up Snape's wineglass, sipped as she watched her students' work get reduced to ash.  
  
*****

_"Viviane, my dear niece.  What a pleasure it is to have you at Charenton"…Her Uncle Donatien, oozing agelessness and evil, took her hand and kissed it as she screamed…_

The bedclothes tangled around Viviane's body as she writhed, caught firmly in the grip of her nightmare.  "No…no, get away…get away from me…" she murmured, throwing one arm across the bed.  "I want out…"

Her nightmare was interrupted by another voice echoing out of her fireplace.  

"Viviane…Viviane, get up.  We need you in Gryffindor Tower, at once."  She flopped over, gasping, for a few moments before springing out of bed.  Instinctively reaching for her swordbelt and boots, she shouted, "Be right there, Minerva," and wrestled them on before Flooing to Minerva's room and through the halls to the Gryffindor Common Room.  

The portrait was ajar and it looked like everyone was just settling down for a long, wakeful night as Viviane stepped through the portrait hole.  Professor McGonagall, restrained worry emanating from every gesture, took Viviane aside.  "Sirius Black.  He got in, somehow, and was standing over Ron Weasley with a knife."

"Sirius Black?" repeated Viviane, looking over at Ron, puzzled. "In here? With a knife? Ron, are you sure?"  
  
"Er, er, yeah.  Yeah, I woke up and he was standing over me and-"  His voice, starting out shaky, ended in an uncomfortable squeak.  Viviane stared at his red face and the way he nervously looked up at her from under his eyelashes, and a corner of her mouth turned down in derision.  _Hmph.  Gryffindor courage is missing this evening_, she thought.  
  
"All right, I need to go check things out," she said, laying a hand on Ron's shoulder as she scrutinized the portrait hole, then turned to peer into his face. "You OK?"  
  
"Er, yeah," answered Ron. He added in a whisper, "Are you going to go crashing around after Sirius Black in _that_?"  Viviane looked down at her green silk negligee, cinched by her worn leather swordbelt, her dragonhide boots incongruously sticking out from beneath the hem. 

  
"Oh. You're right. I'm not exactly dressed for it, am I? _Accio!"_

A heavy broadcloth cloak flew into Viviane's outstretched hand, or would have, except that it got completely entangled around Professor McGonagall.  After a few moments of struggle she emerged from the swathe of material, her mouth twitching.  Holding it out to Viviane, she said, "Do be careful.  And try not to catch cold – Madame Pomfrey would hate to have to call in a Quidditch team to hold you down while she dosed you with Pepper-Up."

Viviane chuckled.  "I'll try.  And-"

"Yes, do let me know what you find.  I'll be awake."  The Transfiguration professor turned back to the students, leaving Viviane to make her way outside to search for her fugitive.

She crept through the bushes and vines that hugged the foundations of the castle, sword drawn and at the ready.  The vines, awakened by the lights and activity inside, were busy gossiping; the slower shrubs were just beginning to stir, muttering sleepy complaints when Viviane's cloak caught on their branches.  "Shhh…." Viviane whispered.  "That damnable Germaine Sprout and her insatiable penchant for experiments; I'll have to tell her to mute this abominable vegetation she created," Viviane decided amidst the rustle of vinish speculation.

As she rounded the corner of the building, inching along against the smooth curve of Ravenclaw Tower, she was startled to see the outline of a man working his way through the foliage ahead of her. Striding swiftly across the distance between herself and her prey, she flung the person against the wall and trapped him there, her sword against his throat.

"Who-" she began, but stepped back, sword falling from her hand.

"Remus?" His profile was sharp against the light spilling from a nearby casement.

"_Remus?_  He stared at her, his face taut and his eyes sparking with something like confused rage.

Viviane grasped his face in her hands.  "Remus, great Merlin, what are you doing here?  What were you thinking? Unarmed?"  She groped for his hands, one of which held his wand.  "At least you weren't being entirely stupid."

His canines glinted as he bared his teeth in a nothing resembling a smile.  "No, I wasn't being stupid.  Perhaps…perhaps I am trying to correct some former stupidity.  Have you seen him?"

"No.  I think he's long gone, by now, waiting for another opportunity.  He's got time, after all.  Remus do you have any idea how he may have gotten into Hogwarts?  During your time here as a student – as a friend of his -  I know you had-"

Remus continued to stare down at her with that terrifying expression, macabre amusement etched in the lines of his face as he watched comprehension slowly build in her eyes.  He merely blinked when she grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him back against the wall.

"Animagus!  Animagus.  Back when we were living in Shipley, you told me….you told me they became animagi to help you through your…Sirius Black got into Hogwarts_ as a dog._  You knew.  You knew this and yet…does Dumbledore-"

Viviane could swear Remus was on the edge of breaking into crazy laughter.  "No.  I haven't told him."

Her fingers tightened on his arms.  "You bloody fool," she spat.  "Long ago, I told you that you had to come to terms with Sirius and what he had done.  You said you didn't know what to believe then.  Do you believe now, in his guilt?  Now that he's pulled a knife on Ron Weasley?  Were you out here hoping to capture him, or help him, or were you only hoping to see him again?  You-"

Remus struggled from her grip and in his turn, trapped her against the building, one arm on either side of her head, only a slight tremor of his hands belying his conversational tone.  "Do you distrust me, too, now that you've become respectable?  Now that you're a Professor with a reputation to uphold?    After all these years and all we've been through, have you finally joined ranks with the rest of the world and distrust every gesture that I make?  What I'm out her for, Viviane, is an explanation.  I've come to terms with Sirius and his betrayal, as best I could.  But I deserve to hear it first, from him, what he did and why.  Without witnesses, before the Ministry gets through with him and not after he has a chance to concoct and feed me one of his extravagant tales – I heard enough of them during our schooldays.  I'm owed at least that much."

Viviane reached up and touched his cheek.  "Oh Remus, what a mess you still are.  About this Animagi problem-"

Remus turned away and retrieved her sword, handing it to her.  "Are you going to tell Dumbledore?"

She laughed.  "He might know already, and is using you as some kind of bait. I wouldn't put it past him.  But no, it isn't my story to tell.  You have to decide the where and when of that.  But I warn you, Remus, if I do catch Sirius and he resists, I can't promise you his safety."

He bared his teeth in that not-smile yet again.  "Why do you think I was out here?  Goodnight, Viv."  Remus gave her a quick kiss before turning back towards the entrance of the castle.  As he left, Viviane slumped against the wall and whispered, "It isn't nearly that simple, Remus Lupin, and you know it."

  
****  
  
"Ready, Viv?" Lupin called as he knocked on her door.  
  
"In a minute. Come on in," Viviane called back, and Lupin walked into her sitting room to take a seat by the fire.  
  
"Yes, do warm up before we get stuck out on that field! Do you think we could get away with smuggling in a flask of Old Ogdens?"  
  
"Er, no," Lupin said. "You'll have to find some other way to stay awake."

"I could use something," groused Viviane, coming out of her bedroom, still winding her braid around her head.  "The break-in your damned friend staged last night kept me up until five in the morning.  What a debacle – and Ron Weasley.   You should have seen the child.  I've always rather liked the boy; he has a bit of spark in him, but last night he was absolutely petrified with fear.  His face was as red as his hair, and he simply couldn't control his voice, or look me in the eye.  The courage of you Gryffindors is overrated-"

She glared at Remus, whose initial chuckle had progressed to a poorly disguised laugh, as he tried and failed to make his cough sound convincing.  Finally, he gave up.  "Oh Viviane, sometimes you can be so stupid," he said in between bursts of laughter.  "Don't you remember what you were wearing last night?  One of your Parisian negligees, as far as I could tell in the near dark.  What fourteen-year-old boy _wouldn't _blush and stammer at the sight of such impressive, uh, Professorial cleavage, much less be able to look you in the eyes?  I'm sure Gryffindor Tower is buzzing about Professor Chance showing up nearly starkers.  As a matter of fact, by now the rumor is probably that you were absolutely starkers.  Be prepared for avid attention on the part of your next several classes."

"I'd better not overhear a thing about it," she said, taking the cloak Remus held out to her, "or I'm going to send all of Gryffindor to you for a year-long detention."

She turned to raise the Guard Spells on her door, and the two of them began their walk to the Quidditch field.  
  
"Quidditch isn't as bad as I thought, really," Viviane said, trying to change the subject.  "Potter is quite the flyer - a treat to watch," Viviane commented as they headed out to the field. "Oh no, what did he do now?" she asked as an exasperated expression crossed Lupin's face.  
  
"He got hold, somehow, of an old map that me and some - old friends - made back when we were students here. Not only did he use it to illegally go to Hogsmeade, but Snape caught him with it and nearly figured out what it was."  
  


Viviane stopped short.  "A map?  Made by you and Sirius, detailing all the secret ins and outs of Hogwarts, no doubt, one that perhaps Sirius Black would love to get his paws on?  Are there any other massive breaches of security you'd like to tell me about?  A counterspell for the front door?  A list of all passwords, present and future?  A trail of liver treats leading up to Potter's room?"

Remus rolled his eyes.  "Stuff it, Viv.  I got the map back, no harm done.  Harry is an intelligent boy, but sometimes he just doesn't think.  Now, shall we go and watch some Quidditch?  And stop squinting at me like that.  It isn't the least bit menacing."

Without another word, she grabbed his arm and began to walk at a fast clip towards the Quidditch stands.

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four 

Outside her window, the sunset poured its light down upon the lawn, expending the force of its rays before giving way to a full moon.  It provided good sport for Malhereuse, who was searching for his dinner amongst the rodents and small beasts that had come out to enjoy the last of the day's heat.  With a sigh, Viviane closed her copy of _Warfare for Wizards, French version, annotated by her father, and got up to stare outside, her arms crossed, shivering despite the warm breeze blowing through her open windows.  Memories of horrific nights under a full moon came back to haunt the peaceful evening.  "Remus," she whispered.  The thought of him spending these last few hours alone and in dread, tore at her, and, throwing some Floo powder into her fire, she called to him.  He did not answer._

"Stubborn wolf.  Well, too bad.  You're not sulking alone, not any more," she muttered as she left her rooms and headed to Gryffindor Tower.

"Remus?" she said, pounding the base of her hand against the door.  "Remus, open up.  I refuse to let you lour about in there by yourself.  Remus, open up."  After a moment's hesitation, she pulled out her wand, let the Guards down and threw open the door.

"Remus, I think you've become even more exasperating-"

She did not have time to do more than take a few steps forward and glance about the sparsely furnished room before she heard a cold voice say, "Excuse me," and a tall form pushed unceremoniously past.  Severus Snape turned back to her, smoking goblet in hand.

"Oh, it's you," he snarled.  "Checking up on your vicious pet?"

"I am visiting Professor Lupin," she replied, in a voice that should have shattered the goblet.  "Leave it on the desk and go."

Snape bared his teeth at her.  "You should be more polite to the brewer of the Wolfsbane that Lupin depends on to keep him barely, er, human.  Without it, the Headmaster would never dream of letting him teach.  As it stands-"

Viviane's hands trembled from the effort of keeping them off of his neck.  "If Albus let you skulk here all these years, bloodsucker-"

He slapped the goblet down on the desk, some of the potion falling over the rim and hissing away on the wood surface.  "How dare you call me - imply that I-"

"Am a vampire?  You're right, it is impossible.  Vampires have better personal hygiene.  Now, get out."****

"Vampires have better manners than you, certainly.  I-"  He paused.  "Where is the beast, anyway?"  He ripped aside the curtains, and both of them stared, breathless, at the sky, just begun to glow with the onset of moonrise.  He turned on Viviane.  "If he so much as scratches a student, I'll have him in Azkaban, next to his friend the murderer.  Do you have any idea where-"

Something seemed to catch his eye and his head swung towards the desk.  He pounced upon a sheet of parchment lying there, bringing it closely to his face.  "I knew it.  I knew it, those damnable-" he breathed, and then looked back up at Viviane, his eyes glowing with savage triumph.  She almost took a step backward as he glided to her, but caught herself and stood her ground.

"Professor Snape-"****

"I am sorry, Professor Chance, but I must go.  And you must stay."  As swift as Mrs. Norris on the track of an errant student, Snape took Viviane's arm and swung her into the bedroom, slamming the door after her and muttering a set of Locking charms before hastening away.

Viviane stood on the other side, staring blankly at the slab of oak in front of her.

"Professor Snape?"  she called.  "Snape?"

Rattling the door handle did nothing, nor did enthusiastic banging.  Grinding out the nastiest Gallic curses in her repertoire, she set herself to breaking the charms he had locked her in with.  "These are much more complex than I thought him capable of," she muttered.  "Breaking them will take an hour, at least.  He will regret this, that unwashed, dungeon-dwelling-"  She stopped, her wand still pointed at the door, then whirled around to face the window.  Running over, she unlatched it and threw the window wide, leaning out to gauge the distance down.  "No good.  I'm too far up, and my Levitation isn't good enough to get down in one piece.  Damn you, Remus, why didn't you get assigned rooms on the first floor."  Viviane began to pace the room, tripping over chairs and empty glass cases. 

In frustration, she began ripping up his bedding, hoping to lower herself down far enough to Levitate herself the rest of the way without serious injury.  Before she got to the point of knotting the strips together, she gave up, tossing the ruined linen in a heap.  "I refuse to impersonate Rapunzel," she declared to the cracked mirror over the bureau.  "That girl was an idiot - she's what comes of refusing to educate witches in anything but beauty spells."

"I wouldn't think it of you, dear," it answered.  Viviane shrugged and began to rummage through Remus' drawers, heedless of order or place, looking for anything among his possessions that might help her escape.  She found nothing useful amongst the tattered robes and thick socks, and got a nasty bite from something that resembled a set of rainbow-colored false teeth.  The object exploded with a flash when she shook it off.  Opening the bottom drawer of his bureau, she lifted off a freeze-dried lethifold (_hmmm, I wonder what he uses that for?, she thought) to reveal a jumble of fascinating gadgets, neatly arranged by size.  Orbs, clear and cloudy and some glowing with a faint radiance nestled next to conical metal shapes, needle-sharp at the tips, and a bundle of cut yew tied with scarlet leather cords._

Viviane sat down and began to examine the objects, occasionally burning her fingers or releasing a loud blast or shower of sparks.  One of the tin conical objects, when she tapped it with her wand, started to glow so brightly she had to shield her eyes.  It brought back to her mind her predicament, the half-hour she'd just wasted, and the fact that Remus was probably transformed by this time, and free. 

Scrambling to her feet, she stumbled to the window through Remus' scattered belongings, determined to use the light to attract attention, then magnify her voice to hail the first person she saw below.  The people she saw made her drop the glowing cone.  Snape was rolling the bodies of what appeared to be students on to stretchers, as well as a man who was bound hand and foot.  Viviane's hands tightened on the window ledge, but the man's hair was too dark and too long to be Remus.  "Snape, what have you done?" she whispered.  "And where is Remus?" she added before turning back to the room, desperately looking for a way out.  She found herself staring at the fireplace. 

"Floo.  Remus, you better keep some Floo powder in here."  Sweeping through neat piles of books, papers, and bags of sweets, leaving a mess behind her that destroyed the last vestige of order in the room, she finally found a cheap clay dish holding the powder she sought.  "Ha!" she cried, lighting a fire and taking a pinch of the stuff.  "Just wait till I retrieve my sword, and then find you, Professor Snape.  You'll not play this trick again."

*~*~*

Sword belt slung around her hips, Viviane hurtled through the quiet corridors, throwing queries about loose werewolves at the suits of armor lining the walls, leaving behind her an echo of clinking metal as they shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads.   She paused in the doorway of the empty Great Hall, her tense fingers curled around the swirling stone pillars of the archway, noting how the light from the fully risen moon streamed through the tracery of the windows, leaving spiky shadows on the walls.  Viviane wanted to squeeze her eyes shut to block out the sight, but dared not.  "Remus?" she called.  After a careful survey that showed her nothing lupine was hiding in the shadows, she returned to the entrance hall and paused.

"Where are you, you damnable wizard?" she muttered, glancing around, then up at the massive staircase.  "And Snape, what was on the desk that sent you off in such a hurry?"  She took a step towards the front door, then paused, wondering if it was better to return to Lupin's room to see what had so interested Snape, or confront the Potions Master with whatever he was doing outside.  She turned back to the front door, but before she could go much further, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick hurried out of Dumbledore's staircase.

"Viviane, stay here," the Headmaster ordered, as soon as he saw her.  "I will need you in a moment, but until then, stay here and don't let anyone else outside.  May I count on you for that, my dear?"  The old wizard grasped her arm with more strength than she thought him to possess, and his normal twinkle was replaced by fierce, tense joy that made her step back in confusion and glance at Minerva.  The other witch lifted her shoulders and glanced at Dumbledore in a show of baffled exasperation.

"Of course, Albus.  I'll not let anyone out for an evening stroll.  Is all of this-"  She gestured to the massive bay window, through which they could see the parade of stretchers, led by Snape, making its way across the lawn, "about Remus?   Do you know where he is?"

"There is no time, Viviane.  I will tell you later."  Dumbledore and his companions hurried off, leaving Viviane standing, puzzled, next to the great staircase of Hogwarts.

~*~*~

The echoes from the door bolt slamming back into its place had just subsided, when Viviane stepped to the window.  The procession she'd glimpsed earlier was gone, and the lawn was as uncluttered and peaceful as usual, with only a tentacle of the squid trailing across the grass near the edge of the lake.  She watched as it flopped about for a moment, then slid back into the lake, leaving a trail of wet grass behind.  "Where has everyone gone?" she asked the spider busily spinning a web in the corner of the uppermost pane.  "Albus said-"

"Thank you, Viviane, for guarding the hall."

She jumped and spun about, hand on hilt, as his voice rang out behind her, lighter and more carefree than she'd ever heard it.  "I need you, Viviane.  I need you to guard a man who no longer needs guarding."  He glanced around, saw they were alone, and continued.  "To keep a man in a room, who never deserved to be shut up in one, a man who has always been innocent, who I should have known to be…"  The old wizard took a deep breath, and beckoning to Viviane, lead her up the stairs and to a small door in the north tower.  He stopped and turning, grasped her by the shoulders.

"He is innocent.  Twelve years innocent.  Peter Pettigrew is the murderer of Lily and James Potter.  He has been hiding at Hogwarts under the guise of Ronald Weasley's pet, and he escaped us tonight.  Now, we must ensure the freedom of one who has been punished for the crime Peter committed," he said, and flung open the door, his gaze sliding past her to the still-bound man seated in the middle of the room.  "The Ministry would not agree with me in the conduct of this affair…"  His eyes lost their blaze, and, eyelids drooping, sought hers.  "Do you understand?"  Viviane nodded.

With a gentle shake, Dumbledore released her.  "I must go; there is much confusion…a Hippogriff will be coming to take Sirius out of here.  Unbind him and make sure he leaves on that Hippogriff.  Promise me you will see this done, Viviane, then hasten back to the infirmary.  You must not be seen."

"Of course, Albus," she said, glancing between he and the prisoner.  "You had better go.  You've got situations to take care of, I'm sure."

With a final pat of her arm, the Headmaster started back down the stairs.  Viviane turned and walked into the room, closing and locking the door behind her.  She stood, both hands folded over her sword hilt, for several seconds.  At length, she produced her wand, released him from his bonds, then returned to her defensive position.  He remained still, his sunken eyes flicking from her face to her sword and back again.  "Who are you?" he asked.

Viviane tried to keep her face impassive as she studied the wasted figure.  _Handsome, very handsome, once.  And he's one who stakes everything on bad odds.  That look in his eyes wasn't acquired; he was born with it.  A dangerous man, then and now.  Oh Remus..._

"Thoughts of you have tortured Remus for twelve years," she said.  "Have you thought of him?"

Sirius began a prolonged hacking that was meant as a laugh.  "You know Remus, do you?  And yes, I thought of him.  I thought of him bleeding, I've thought of him outcast, I've thought of him freezing, burning, starving, satiated, alone, crowded out, howling, speechless."  He started that awful cackle again.  "Thought of him...we've been fools, he and I, but we've made a new beginning tonight."  He squinted up at Viviane.  

"How do you know him?" he asked.  "You're French, by your accent, and-" 

"No matter," she interrupted.  "I've known him long enough, and know how he so desperately wanted to think you-"

"-innocent.  Ha!"  His wasted face twisted, revulsion for uncountable things fighting against sudden hope.  "How do we define that, now?  Peter, Peter, you pathetic-"

"-rat."  Viviane leapt from her chair and began to pace.  "Rat.  He got away by transforming just now, didn't he?" She whirled back around on him.  "If only Remus had more trust in me than in your stupid friendships and false loyalties-"

A hand, wasted to the tendons, grasped her wrist.  "We've paid for our breach of trust, Remus and I," the man said, his eyes staring up into hers.  "You've paid some prices too, I see it."

Viviane pulled him up to face her.  "I'm done with paying, and I don't want to see Remus wasting his time paying for something that he cannot stop.  Is there anything I can do to help you? I have a lot of connections out there who'd be happy to lend a hand to somebody who's escaped Azkaban."   
  
"Really?" he replied. "You don't look like the type."   
  
"A lot has changed in twelve years, Mr. Black. You may find it difficult to distinguish types these days."   
  
A bitter look crossed his face and he said, "There are some types that never change." The mood passed and he said "I do have one favor to ask - keep an eye on Harry for me, will you? And write to me once in a while if you can. I'd like another perspective on events, so to speak."   
  
"You may not like what you read, Mr. Black-"   
  
"I don't care, as long as it's the truth.  Call me Sirius," he said.   
  
"Call me Viv," she answered, then turned her head to the window, where she saw a Hippogriff approaching the tower. "Take care, Sirius. You'll be out of here, soon."   
  
"You'll be hearing from me, Viv," he answered as she left the room and headed back to the infirmary.  
  
~*~*~

  
As Viviane slipped into the hospital dormitory, she noticed that Harry and Hermione were there and being practically force-fed chocolate by Madam Pomfrey. As Madam Pomfrey turned her attention to Harry, Hermione whispered, "What are you doing here? You weren't here before!"  
  
"The Headmaster told me to come," whispered Viviane back. "I took Sirius to Professor Flitwick's office** - did he get away all right?" Hermione nodded as Snape's voice, raised in an infuriated screech, was heard ricocheting down the hallway, and they all froze as he, Fudge and Dumbledore burst into the room, trailed anxiously by Professor McGonagall. **

Snape entered the room in a flurry of robes, hands, and venom, and Viviane almost felt sorry for him in his ranting frustration, as he twisted between Fudge and Dumbledore. She stood very still, trying to will herself invisible, as accusations and explanations merged in a loud babble of voices. 

Suddenly, in the midst of the confusion, Fudge grabbed Viviane's shoulders and peered intently up into her face. "No, it can't be. You can't be. Viviane Devereaux?" Viviane closed her eyes.  _Lie?  Bluff?  Run away?  None of those options, however attractive, seemed possible.  Slowly, she opened her eyes and backed away from Fudge. "Yes, it must be. Child, we thought you must be dead! But there's no mistaking your face, my dear. That famous Devereaux, er, bone structure! I remember you so well from the last time the Ministry visited Aquitaine."_

They both turned at the sound of someone sliding off of a bed, and the thump of feet onto the wooden floor of the infirmary.  Hermione took a step forward.  
  
"So it's true!" she burst out. "You did attend Aquitaine! You have a grudge against Hogwarts and probably helped Peter Pettigrew in hopes he would help destroy Harry and the school." The crowd in the room turned to stare.  
  
"Oh Hermione, do you really think I'd be so self-destructive?" Viviane asked. "How little you know of the world. And how did you guess who I was?"  
  
Hermione looked at her, chin up defiantly. "My parents took me on holiday in France last summer. When I was in the library-"  
  
"On vacation?" Ron interrupted, awestruck, and suddenly alert.  
  
"I found a book about Aquitaine." Hermione continued, ignoring Ron. "You pronounce Chance in the French way, and I - I -," she stumbled to a stop.  
  
"You what, Hermione?" answered Dumbledore.  
  
"When I came to your room for help with the Shield, you left the room for a few minutes and I did some - research - in your desk. There was enough there to prove who you were," Hermione said, chin still up but blushing bright red.   
  
"Ah," said Viviane. "It seems we've underestimated each other from the start, Hermione. Good work."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked. "Aquitaine? Isn't that some old school that existed in France a long time ago?"   
  
"Not so long ago, Ron," said Dumbledore, "and with some timely assistance from Hogwarts it might still be in existence." Dumbledore began to pace the floor, looking more disturbed than anyone had ever seen him. "Aquitaine was attacked by Voldemort and the Death Eaters before he became a threat in England. I was a teacher here at the time, and although I disagreed, most of the others felt we did not have the resources to effectively help our colleagues in France. So we insulated ourselves and Aquitaine was totally destroyed by Voldemort and his helpers, except for three students who escaped. Viviane was one of them, and I feel privileged to have her at Hogwarts. Although she's never expressed her feelings on the subject of Aquitaine," he added as he glanced at her.  
  
"Nor do I care to, at least not right now." Viviane paused, then drew her sword out of its scabbard and held it up, where it sparkled in the light of the torches.  "This is all that has stood between me and oblivion, all these years, and all that I carry out of my considerable inheritance.  Whatever my…feelings for Hogwarts may be, my sword is at your service."  She lowered her weapon, glanced at Harry and said "Voldemort began with Aquitaine because it was the oldest school in existence and he thought it might contain secrets pertaining to immortality. If it did, I never saw them. But he was also looking for me. My parents were both from ancient wizard families, and Voldemort thought I could...could come in useful. He killed both of my parents trying to make them reveal where I was. 

"Somehow, he found out that I was at Aquitaine, and what secrets Aquitaine might hold, so he destroyed it stone by stone looking for both me and the secret to immortality. I, and a few others, made it into a hidden room and cowered there until he finished. My parents, my home and my school were destroyed through his ambition. If Voldemort is really seeking power again, then we must destroy him and then get on with the business of teaching the next generation of witches and wizards. We had just enough warning at Aquitaine before Voldemort attacked to save the most important aspects of the library and a few other items, which are now in my rooms. I'd like to see them actively used again."  
  
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," chorused Fudge and Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"What happened to the other two students?" Harry asked.   
  
"Death Eaters hunted them down and killed them years ago." Viviane said. "Vold, I mean He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is, if anything, thorough."  
  
"So- so you're the daughter of Philippe Devereaux? THE Philippe Devereaux? And Aimee de la Fontaine? Philippe Devereaux died as a great- a great-" asked McGonagall, in a tone of disbelief.  
  
"Hero." Viviane gave a cynical smile. "Yes. She glanced at Ron and Harry. "That explains all the snakes. Our house symbol is the serpent. After I escaped I took the name Chance from one of the branches of my family that died out ages ago. Devereaux is a bit ostentatious for a woman who's merely a hired sword."  
  
"Does Voldemort know you're alive? Are you in danger?" Harry asked.  
  
Viviane shrugged. "I don't know. I doubt it - I'm not his first priority at the moment, and it's in his interest to keep me alive and well, for now." She smiled a slightly ferocious smile. "I haven't wreaked enough havoc among Death Eaters to turn his attention to me - yet. It is your back that needs watching, Harry."  
  
Fudge stepped forward, saying in an overly hearty manner "Well, Miss - Mademoiselle - Professor Devereaux, with Sirius Black on the loose again, we could use you in the Ministry. If you ever decide to leave teaching, you will always have a position in the government if you want one. You'd be an excellent department head, with your experience, and with your ancestry-."   
  
Viviane turned to him, one eyebrow raised. "My experience would make your bureaucrats run screaming, Fudge. I think I'll pass. And I'll keep the name of Chance for the time being. Albus, I need to check in with Hagrid." Dumbledore nodded, and as Viviane walked from the room she noticed Snape for the first time since Fudge recognized her, sitting in a chair by the door. He had an unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes were darker than Viviane had ever seen them.  
  
*****  
  
"Remus, where the heck are you?" Viviane muttered to herself as she searched the teachers' lounge and proceeded to his office. There she stopped short in astonishment as emptied drawers and blank shelves met her gaze.   
  
"Ah, Viviane, there you are. I have been looking for you," Dumbledore said as he walked into the deserted office.  
  
"Remus? Where is he? What's happened?"   
  
"Severus took it upon himself to tell the Slytherins that Remus is a werewolf and-"  
  
"He what?"  Viviane paled and grasped the Headmaster's arm.  "He did what?"  
  
Dumbledore placed a hand over hers.  "Remus immediately resigned, and I must say that under the present circumstances it is for the best-"  
  
She snatched her hand back.  "Albus, how can you say that?**  How can you let Snape get away with this?"  
  
"Viviane-"  
  
She stepped forward, eyes blazing, up to Dumbledore. "Do you have any idea what life is like for Remus out there? I've shared lodgings with him over the years, and I do know. I've broken into his room and found him in rags, near death from blood loss where he'd ripped his arms to shreds. There were times when he's begged, _begged me to leave him to die. I've found him in gutters, in the same condition, where he'd escaped to the woods and then tried to find his way back but fainted from exhaustion and wounds. I've found him beaten up, robbed of what little he had, raving like a madman... how can you send him back out to face that?"  
  
"Viviane, there is nothing I can do. Please, no more of this, now or ever." Dumbledore gave her a rare, freezing look and walked away, down the hall towards his office.  
  
Viviane was startled momentarily, but recovered enough to shout, "I just bet you don't!" after his retreating figure.  
  
****  
  
Ex-Professor Lupin was about to get into the carriage when Viviane ran up and grabbed his arm, pulling him back from the vehicle. "Remus! What's going on?  Albus says you're leaving. This is - "   
  
Remus grabbed the door of the carriage for balance and looked sternly at her, his brown eyes hard.  "Viv, I must. Severus is right when he says I'm a danger to the students-"   
  
Bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, she snapped, "That's nonsense! I can't believe Snape's done this to you, just wait till I get my hands-"   
  
"Viviane, please. Don't make this any harder." He let go of her, trying to smile. "It's been great, being together. Keep in touch." Viviane shook her head in exasperation and then hugged him fiercely, trying to will some warmth into Lupin's chilly body.   
  
"Remus, if you insist on caving in to Snape, at least take care of yourself. Swallow your damned pride and let me help you if you need it - you've helped me so much since I've been here and it will be so difficult without you-" Viviane choked and tried to keep the tears back, but they escaped as she buried her face in his chest.   
  
He rested his cheek on her hair for a moment as he said, "I'll write to you, Ms. Devereaux. Yes, Albus just told me," he said, as she looked up, startled. "Don't let Severus get on your nerves, my brave girl. Oh Viv, if only I'd known what you've lost-." He extricated himself from her arms, kissed her quickly, and scrambled back into the carriage.  
  
As she stood and watched it drive off, a dizzying surge of rage swept over her. "Unfair," she snarled as she turned and stalked to Snape's office.  Beating both fists on his door, she shouted, "Open up, Snape. I need to talk to you."  
  
His voice, irritated and rough, echoed back.  "Go away. I'm busy right now."   
  
Taking out her wand, she stepped back and blew the door to bits. Snape looked up from his cauldron, appalled, as fragments of the door flew past his head.  The doorknob fell into his potion, causing it to froth over and turn from green to fuchsia.  "How dare you?" Viviane hissed as she walked in. "How dare you play such a dirty trick on Remus?"   
  
"My door!" he gasped.  "I always knew you were insane. As for that werewolf that nearly killed me-"   
  
"You mean the professor who was doing such good work with Hogwarts students," she snapped back. "You know how hard Remus has it out there. You know we need him for the Defense position. You jealous, insecure, nasty, backstabbing-"   
  
"Oh please," said Snape. "Get out of my office and take your Diagon Alley manners somewhere else. They don't belong at Hogwarts any more than the werewolf does. I don't care who your parents were or how highly the Headmaster thinks of you. Why don't you resign in protest? I'm sure nobody would mind."   
  
Viviane stepped up to Snape, steel in eyes and voice. "You let a childhood prank dominate your life to the point of idiocy. Your students are terrified of you. And I may have Diagon Alley social skills, but you have none at all. Of the two of us, you are the one who_**** doesn't belong at Hogwarts."   
  
Snape finally, completely lost his temper at the same time Viviane let hers loose. They were so busy screaming unbelievably rude insults at each other that Dumbledore had to get between them to make his presence known. "Stop it!" he thundered at them, looking so forbidding that both stopped shouting immediately. "I have never witnessed - nor heard - such behavior in this school by either students or teachers. I am heartily ashamed of you both."   
  
"Headmaster, look at my door! Professor Chance burst in-"   
  
"I don't want to hear it, Severus, nor from you, Viviane. You both should know better. Since you'll be working together for some time, I see I'll have to get you to agree on something. Viviane, you don't have any experience in brewing potions, do you?"   
  
"No, Albus," she said tersely.   
  
"Well then, here is your opportunity. Severus, I understand that Viviane has given you a book of potions, some of which you may need her help in translating." Snape simply glowered at Dumbledore. "Very well. Starting next term, once a week, for two hours, Viviane, you shall help Severus translate potions from the book you saved from Aquitaine. Severus, here is your chance to teach a bright new student. Shake hands, and not another word on this matter."   
  
"Albus-" Viviane said.   
  
"Shake hands," Dumbledore said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Looking at distant points over each other's shoulders, they quickly brushed their hands together. "Good," said Dumbledore. "I trust this will never, ever happen again, and I'll make sure both of you have an evening free in your schedule. Severus, I suggest you start working on Viviane's lesson plans for next fall. As they exited Snape's office, Dumbledore took her firmly by the arm and said, "Before you leave on vacation Viviane, there are a few things that I fear you need reminders about, one of which is the respect I merit as Headmaster of this school." As they headed towards Dumbledore's staircase, Viviane steeled herself to make a few apologies before she left for the summer. **

The end.

A/N:  Thanks to Yolanda, who put up with the umpteen revisions of the Sirius/Viviane scene!  
  
  



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